The Proposal
by Irbis
Summary: Remy and Rogue try to find the happiness they once had and have since lost, even though Jubilee crashes their private party. But it's all for a good cause and let's not forget that some apparent evils turn out to be godsends down the line. Ch31: Happily ever after… Maybe? - The End!
1. Lonely Nights

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters except my characters. Which are quite a few this time around. Let's try it this way: I don't own any Marvel characters that happen to show up in the upcoming chapters and which I'm sure you'll recognise without any need to name long lists.

* * *

 **Foreword**

 **(warning: angsty rant ahead)**

The way the writers handled Decimation and depowered mutants was, to me, very disappointing. Why couldn't depowered mutants such as Jubilee or Dani Moonstar be kept in the fold? Most of them are experienced fighters; surely they could be of some use even if not in direct fight. Or at least be kept as teachers (even if Emma could still be in character kicking Dani out, the rest should have vetoed the move)! Accepting the reasoning of 'if you're not a mutant, you can't be around mutants' is almost like saying if you don't fit with [insert class of people], you can't be around [that class of people]. It's the most moronic, discriminating line of reasoning ever to be embraced by a team of heroes fighting discrimination!

Now, I can understand the whole 'ship them off to safety, away from the target set on us', but that only holds while the X-Men are under attack, because afterwards… it's just plain discriminating. Not to mention that the X-Men were in fact kicking depowered mutants out of one frying pan (under the attacks of super-villains) and into another frying pan (under the attacks of regular humans). And not even bothering to drop by and check on them. It's basicaly: 'we're oh-so-dangerous, so go away and fend for yourselves against minor danger; oh and don't bother to call, because we'll be too busy.'

By shooing away all depowered mutants, writers are basically saying that a. if you don't have powers, you're not interesting, and b. if you don't have powers, you don't belong with the other mutants (oh, and c. mutants stick with mutants, depowered stick with depowered, and regular humans stick with regular humans, no mixing allowed and let's not have our heroes raise red flags against it). What happened to the dream of humans and mutants living in harmony? Why did the writers forget about that basic foundation stone and replace it with 'if they don't have powers for kick-ass action, kick them out or give them new ones'? If the X-Men can't give the example… they end up being as elitist as Magneto's Brotherhood.

Right, rant almost over now…

I strongly disagree with the two (three) points above. I believe depowered mutants are interesting, they still belong with the other mutants, and they have a range of fights ahead of them as worthy and exciting as the X-Men's (without need for replacement powers). To prove my point, I have enlisted the help of a very much depowered and flatscan Jubilee (no vampire mess either) and of… well, no spoilers just yet. I'll mention it later on.

Anyway, canon is followed up until M-Day and Civil War, which is when things start going AU.

Oh, this is still a Romy story first and foremost. It was imagined as such from the very beginning but you know Jubilee: if there's a party, she'll crash it and make sure it's as fun as it can be.

* * *

 **The Proposal**

 **1\. Lonely Nights**

Rogue shivered in pleasure when Remy's hand touched her back. It was pure ecstasy, the tingle caused by his expert fingers. She moaned as the fingertips brushed softly down her spine, all the way down to her lower back, where his fingers were suddenly replaced by his lips. Rogue gasped and arched her body, but as she turned around in bed to face her one true love and kiss him back with interest, she found herself facing a darkened window. She had been dreaming.

Flopping back with a frustrated grunt, Rogue fought the tears that welled up. She and Remy hadn't touched skin to skin in almost two years and a half. God, it was eating her alive! They still held occasional couple therapy with Emma but, seriously, why did they bother? They couldn't touch safely not even in the psychic landscape, no matter how many times Emma told them they should be able to, that it was only their own expectations that brought the barrier out of the physical world and into their minds.

Rogue sniffed and looked at the alarm clock. Five am. Better get up as she wouldn't be able to go back to sleep, not after that dream. God, she'd give away her right arm just to sleep through the night in Remy's embrace. Skin to skin.

All her life she had craved that intimacy of skin to skin contact. And Remy! Ever since she had fallen for him that she'd known, without the slightest doubt, that being with him would be beyond bliss. She had hungered for it, imagining what it would be like to touch him, to feel his touch, to... _touch_! She would pleasure herself, whispering his name to the pillows. It had been painful, not to be able to act on her desires.

But after Valle Soleada... After experiencing true bliss, how could she ever go back on it? It was just agonising, to remember the gentleness of his touch, the thrill of fulfillment, and to know it was gone forever. Sometimes she wished they had never had those nine months of paradise. Everything else felt too much like hell afterwards.

She dragged herself to the shower. When had they last embraced, even if not skin to skin? They kept drifting more and more apart. The water ran hot over her body. His breath was hot too, as were his hands. Only a different type of heat, naturally.

"T' Hell wi'this!"

Drying herself quickly, she put on her uniform and rushed out of her room. What use was moping around in the dark, anyway? Hadn't she been brooding just now that they didn't embrace anymore? Hadn't she wished she could trade one of her arms for the both of his? Well, maybe it wasn't skin on skin, but at least they'd be together!

Rogue could already see his surprised face. See his lips morph into one of those 'why didn't I think of it earlier' smiles. She didn't even knock, so wrapped up in her day-dreaming.

His bed was empty.

For a moment, Rogue stood by the door, unable to understand. The bed was made. Had it just been so or hadn't it been slept in? Maybe he had got up early too. Maybe he couldn't sleep either.

Or maybe he had spent the night somewhere else.

Body rigid with shock, Rogue closed the door almost gently.

With someone else.

Her muscles stiff, she made her way to the kitchen.

Somebody he could touch.

She needed a cup of coffee. Yes, a good cup of coffee should clear...

Skin to skin.

...the matter.

"Good morning!" Rogue jumped a little at Hank's cheer. "Pardon me, for I had no intention to startle our Southern Belle. Isn't it uncannily early for you to be out and about?"

Hank stopped whatever he was doing and looked at her in silence for an awkward moment.

"Ah couldn't sleep," she forced.

"Ah, I fear you are not alone." Remy! He must be talking about... "Scott has just gone outside with the same allegation."

Maybe she should ask...

"Ya're awake too."

"I've been working," Hank shrugged dramatically. "But I intend to have myself a long, reinvigorating nap later on."

And Remy?

"So... ev'ryone else is..."

"Either asleep or out, I suppose." He cocked an eyebrow at her. "Should I surmise you are searching for someone in particular?"

Holding her breath, Rogue decided she'd check the garage. For his bike. He could have taken it only a few moments ago though. She really shouldn't jump to the worst conclusion every time.

"No?"

She could check the cameras if his bike was gone. Find out when he had left.

"Well, then..."

The sound of bike engines reverberated through the silence of the building.

"Ah, Logan and Gambit must have arrived. Good, good." Hank winked at Rogue. "Scotty would have been particularly mad if those two were to accidentally miss the meeting."

Frozen in place, the screaming echoed in her mind: out all night with Logan. Out _all night_!

"Rogue," her face snapped towards Hank. "Are you feeling well? You've become a bit pale..."

Rogue's attention snapped to the kitchen door the moment Logan opened it. They were laughing about something, she couldn't quite catch what, and both men stopped when they saw her. Were those guilty looks on their faces?

"Bon jour, ma cher." Such a wide smile when he usually just frowned and grumbled all day. God, she felt _sick_!

She didn't even think, she just burst flying through that damn door, sending both men scrambling away.

How could they? How could HE! God, God, GOD! Why was she so stupid? Why did she have to keep on carrying that stupid flame for that... GOD! Why did he have to hurt her? On, and on, and on! Why couldn't he just love her and stay by her side? Even in spite of...

Rogue stopped the onward movement to find herself miles up in the air. It was unbearably cold, up here. She took a few deep breaths to steady her mind, calm her thumping heart.

Even in spite of. Why did _she_ want to shackle him at her side though? Wasn't it cruel of her when he had needs she obviously couldn't fulfill?

Even if he had sworn to love her and to always be there for her.

Unlike tonight, obviously. Unlike so many days when he snapped at her and accused her of... she didn't even know what of! Some petty complaints that he really shouldn't have, not if he loved her as much as he claimed to. Because if someone had good reasons to complain, that was _her_ , not _him_. She was the one suffering, trapped by her own powers, while he wandered about free as a bird.

God! It was too cold. Slowly she started her descent. She needed time to... Wait, what time was it? Scott's meeting was set for eight, right? Darn, she hadn't put on her watch.

Better just go back anyway.

* * *

"What was _that_ all about?"

Gambit looked at Logan and shrugged. How the hell should he know! Rogue was always in a rotten mood anyway. It seemed as if it just got worse with every passing month. Sure, she mellowed down anytime there was some sort of attack and he got hurt... unless, of course, she decided he had waltzed into danger of his own reckless decision. She could spend days grumbling over his recklessness and selfishness, putting himself in danger as if nobody would care if he died. Didn't he realise how much he hurt his friends and family when he risked his life for a cheap thrill? Though she really meant he was hurting _her_. And why had she morphed into this suffocating mother-hen? She'd only be pleased if he somehow turned into an indoor hermit who avoided using knives for fear of cutting himself. It was ridiculous!

"I dare say something has upset our dear girl."

Or, as usual, a very specific Cajun someone. And to think he had come in in such a great mood. Merde!

"Beer?"

Gambit shook his head at Logan's offer. If he were to drink something, it would be stronger than beer. Better to just hit the sheets and sleep the irritation off.

"So what have the two of you been up to?" Beast asked, referring that Scott had got up particularly early and been upset at noticing their bikes were nowhere to be seen. "He may have been concerned you might attempt to escape our morning meeting."

Who cared! He headed towards the door, ready to go up to his room. Logan was just opening a beer, saying Spidey had needed a couple of hands on deck but that, right now, he was going to follow the Cajun's lead and get himself a shut eye.

"Oh, Gambit…" McCoy called. "At eight o'clock, the two of you. Right?"

"Tais-toi, homme!" It was barely 5.30, so what was the big deal? It was as if anything he did these days caused nothing but distress. "I said I be dere, so I be dere!"

* * *

If you've enjoyed the chapter, please leave a review. Just let me know what you liked and disliked so I can keep improving my writing skills. Thank you.


	2. X-Men Inc

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters except my characters. Which are quite a few this time around. Let's try it this way: I don't own any Marvel characters that happen to show up in the upcoming chapters and which I'm sure you'll recognise without any need to name long lists.

* * *

 _I'd just like to remind everyone that this story respects canon up until M-Day and, a bit patchy, until Civil War. I worked out a chronology of X-Men events in order to create a chart of the characters' ages and, very important for my writing processes, in order to have a notion of how long it has been in between events._

 _When both Rogue and Gambit lost their powers, they moved out to Valle Soleada in California, where they remained for 6-9 months. Then Xorn destroyed New York and killed Jean, which had Rogue request Sage's help to jumpstart their powers so they could return to active. This story happens two and a half years after they recover their powers._

 _Through that period, their relationship became suffered from the lack of intimacy due to Rogue's powers. Shortly after returning to the active (and after Gambit gets his vision back), they had therapy with Emma Frost in the astral plane, where Emma guaranteed they could touch. Nevertheless Rogue's powers would not be held back. The tension kept building._

 _In canon, after M-Day, Mystique joins the X-Men as Foxx and adds further pression. However, those events did not happen in my AU. Similarly, Apocalypse did not attack the Institute and Gambit did not become Death._

* * *

 **2\. X-Men Inc.**

The meeting room felt cramped with the sixteen people packed inside, chatting more or less freely. Scott breathed out slowly. When Valerie Cooper had arrived with Jubilee and Sofia Mantega, there had been some curiosity, but Emma had swiftly whisked the federal agent aside and the two young women had become the centre of attention. Well, one young woman, since Jubilee had waltzed right up to Logan's room and dragged his ass outside for some face time, in her words. Had probably spilt every bean there was to spill if Logan's scowl was any indication. Although, if anyone was able to talk Logan into giving this a try, it was Jubilee. Hopefully, the man was scowling at himself for agreeing to back her up all the way.

Scott looked back at Emma and Val, freshly out of Emma's office and still going through paperwork, then at his watch. It was 7.52. Just then, his eyes zeroed in on some movement by the door.

"Ah, Gambit! Come in and we'll get started."

"Yeah," Jubilee piped up. "And moving at full speed too, 'cause we should have left, like, an _hour_ ago."

Scott looked at all the faces inside the room. Hank, Bobby, Warren, Logan, Peter, Kitty, Rogue, Gambit, Kurt, Bishop, Sam, Paige, Jubilee and Sofia. He glanced back at Emma and Val.

"Less dramatic pausing," Jubilee wheezed in a mock whisper, "and more talking."

Scott took a deep breath.

"We all started on this path because of a dream. Charles Xavier's dream, though I'll be bold enough to warrant it's the same dream we all cradle. That mutants and humans may one day be able to live in harmony, side by side."

Jubilee had started rolling her head along with her eyes in a dramatically mute 'get on with it' and Scott had to clear his throat in order to focus back on his speech. It was important that he did this right if he was going to convince everyone.

"We have fought bravely for our dream but the truth is… we are failing. Dr. Valerie Cooper, will you be so kind as to show us how badly we're losing the battle."

As Val stood up, Scott reached for the computer and started the presentation with an array of photos.

"These are photos of the over 150 teenaged mutants that were part of your Academy and who lost their powers on the fateful M-Day." There was tension on several of the faces, especially Sofia and Hank. "In an attempt to protect them, they were excluded from the Academy but 42 of those former students ended up dying at the hands of a madman… precisely what everyone had tried to prevent."

Val Cooper sighed and Scott moved to the next step of the presentation, which meant more photos flashing at a greater speed.

"Over 100 former students, and therefore former mutants, left your grounds. They joined the millions of former mutants out there. But there is a catch. When the X-Men started, there were two sides of this so-called genetic war: humans and mutants, each one having their champions and warriors. Nowadays, there is a third side, the former mutants, and they have no champion, no warrior ready to defend them."

Scott pushed the button for the third step of the presentation, with images of mutant villains.

"The X-Men have taken upon their shoulders to police their own in order to show the human population there is nothing to fear."

A forth slide showed a one inch metallic object that looked like a large tablet and two images of a man, first with purple skin and red eyes, then looking human.

"But it is not your mission to tackle the small criminals, or the accidentally so. For example, Smithson, John. His mutant powers allow him to slowly change the colour of his skin, though the default is the bright purple you can see on the photo. His crime? He was homeless and often started bonfires to keep himself warm. Unfortunately, one of those bonfires spread, quite accidentally, to a building. In fact, he was even involved in the efforts to put out the fire! But he had started it, nonetheless. He was arrested and convicted. He got a two year sentence in prison and, due to being a mutant, forced to have a power inhibitor inserted into his body. Once his sentence is served, the inhibitor will be taken out."

Scott was glad to see the frowns of repugnance.

"Unfortunately, there is something far more insidious that former mutants must face: hate crimes. For a mutant, these people are now normal humans; but for humans, they'll always be mutants, even without their powers. And they have absolutely _no one_ to protect them. With your help, though, that is about to change."

The faces of the X-Men changed to interest and Scott stepped up.

"We, as X-Men, have always tried our best to protect everyone. Since we are best suited to deal with dangerous villains, we have always attempted to protect humans by sending them away from danger. Naturally, we have acted in the same way with depowered mutants but I regret to say it was a mistake, because, even if it is not our intention, we are indeed turning our back on them and throwing them to the wolves."

He looked at the guarded faces of both Sofia and Jubilee. Although especially Jubilee… she had grown by their side after all, almost a little sister to the team.

"I can't apologise enough for the pain you must have felt, no matter the good intentions."

Scott breathed out slowly and looked at the others. "Jubilee, Sofia and Val Cooper have joined efforts to tackle this tragedy and now it's our turn to support them."

The X-Men seemed ready to jump to action, ready to help. Let's just hope they'd still feel that way in a few minutes.

"Nick Fury and SHIELD have lobbied side by side with Val and the result is that the FBI is now creating the Super Powered Affairs Department which will focus exclusively on crimes that involve either mutants or former mutants, whether as criminals or as victims." Scott motioned towards Sofia and Jubilee. "Despite their young age, Nick Fury has managed to get our young ladies into the FBI. Today they will start their training at Quantico and then they will work with the first two squads that are being created."

Gambit snorted. "An' who's t' make sure dis federal department won't be as biased as ev'ryone else? Les petites?"

"What?" Jubilee shot to her feet. "You think we ain't up to the job, swamp rat?"

"They _will_ make sure," Scott insisted, "and so will _we_. Because the X-Men will act as consultants to these squads, helping them out whenever they require and, in exchange, receiving information about threats we are used to dealing with, such as the Church of Humanity and similar associations."

"There's a caveat." Logan grunted from the back, which awarded him a warning elbow from Jubilee. "Ya might wanna get t'that point."

Yes, it was time to do so. Scott nodded.

"The X-Men must become a non-profit organisation in order for this to work." A wave of suspicion surfed through the people in front of him. "Our identities will not be revealed, but we must register our aliases, our uniforms and our powers."

Suspicion blew into loud indignation and Scott looked at Emma. *Let them vent,* she told him telepathically. *They'll come ar…"

A loud whistle ripped through the room, causing a sudden silence.

"Would it hurt t'give a guy fair warnin'?" Logan grunted with a hand over his ears while Jubilee stalked to the front.

"I can't freaking _believe_ this! There are _millions_ of people out there suffering hate crimes and worse and you can't, like, sacrifice your heroic aliases which _everyone_ already knows anyway? _Hello_! Are you even for _real_? Hank has had his Avengers card for _years_ , and you all can't be bothered to have one yourselves? What the hell gives, people! You're willing to get yourselves killed fighting some asshole, but you can't have an X-Men card with your names and powers? _Really_?!"

"Gambit ain't gonna be workin' fer no government," Scott shook his head at the thieves' words, but Jubilee was on a roll.

"Well, like, _duh_ , no one is. The X-men are to be an _in-de-pend-ent_ organisation that happens to give the feds a hand. Period."

Scott cleared his throat. "What Jubilee is trying to say is that the government will have no control over us or our movements, except when we consult with the SPAD… I mean, the Super Powered Affairs Department. We will have to follow their rules then, but that's it."

"But we still have to register with the government."

"Helloooo! You all have an ID card so you're _all_ already registered with the government. Like, duh! The _big_ difference here is that they can't connect your X-Men identity with your American citizen identity."

To the exception of all those who had had their identities revealed throughout the years and all their fights. Scott looked at Emma and nodded slightly towards the audience.

"It's still diff'rent, sugar," Rogue said mildly. "Today we register willingly; tomorrow, all mutants are forced int' registerin'."

"Or not," Hank got up. "This could be the beginning of a more proactive stance, conducting to a greater acceptance and integration of mutants in our society."

"Or it can be the beginning of an American Genosha," Bobby pointed out. "It's a big risk."

"As Jubilation has explained, Robert," Hank insisted, "all mutants working with the Avengers are officially registered with the group. So far, it has set no precedence."

"What do you call the Initiative?" Bishop asked.

"It does not apply to mutants who do not wish to act as vigilantes," Hank retorted. "Besides, the Initiative is state sponsored which can lead to interferences; we would not be state sponsored, so no one will be able to interfere with our actions."

Kurt shook his head. "It still worries me, though. What if this Super Powered Affairs department is used to collect information on people that will later be used against them?"

"Collecting information can be used to hurt people or to help," Warren cut in. "But people are already being persecuted and we won't be able to help them unless we collect and organise information about what and who they're up against. I see it as a lesser evil."

"This can also be the beginning of an integrated police force," Val Cooper joined in. "Isn't that the great objective of the X-men? For humans and mutants to work side by side? Well, the SPA department is the first step in that direction."

"I thought X-Factor had been the first step in that direction," Bobby snorted.

Scott looked at Val, obviously ruffled with the remark.

"As a matter of fact, the state sponsored X- Factor just proves that it's better to have an independent team working _with_ rather than _for_ the government. For example, the government forced us into accepting Sabertooth in the team. Why? Because _someone_ wanted a failsafe that could be given free rein to wipe out whoever they chose without any qualms."

Val Cooper waved a hand in the team's direction. "You may say I can't understand the risks because I'm not a mutant, but I have spent my whole life working as a liaison between mutants and the Government. I am telling you I honestly believe it is better to have your alias registered than to let the Government create their own superpowered teams, and I undoubtedly believe this new federal department will only work if there is an independent body keeping an eye out. Jubilee is certain you are the best team for the job and so am I. Yes, there is a price to pay, but the end results _are_ worth it."

There was a moment of silence and Scott looked at Emma. The team's doubts had been shaken, he felt now was the time to present the rest of the advantages their move included. Emma, however, didn't seem in a hurry.

"It is a risk." Great, they had missed the opportunity. Scott looked back at Kitty, who had got up and was walking towards Jubilee. "But if we think about it, our whole lives are nothing but facing one risk after another. How many times have we been in missions that felt suicidal, so slim were our chances? But we never balked at the risk; we always took it head on."

Once next to Jubilee she turned to face the rest of her colleagues.

"Yes, I understand there is a risk that this may be the beginning of general mutant registration. But there is also the possibility that no one else but crime fighters will ever get registered; the possibility that our actions may end up rescuing people from oppression and persecution. I'm with Jubilee on this."

Warren cleared his throat and got up.

"You all know Evangeline Whedon has been working as our lawyer. Well, in the last few months, I've been helping her set up a company to deal with these discrimination cases. Former mutants that are being persecuted, refused jobs, kicked out of their homes, harassed, killed. Her team includes two mutants, three former mutants and two humans. Basically, her team is Xavier's dream come true and they are fighting out there on the court houses for a fair unbiased justice towards humans, mutants and the in-between and, let me tell you, it is not an easy fight. I say we owe it to them to take this step."

Emma cleared her throat loudly.

"There is another point that must be mentioned." The image on the screen changed to an image of the old Massachusetts Academy. "We are reopening our Academy… for all young mutants _and_ former mutants, starting at pre-kindergarten levels all the way to higher education. As a quid pro quo of X-men's complimentary assistance against superpowered criminals, the federal government will issue new identities for former mutants and their families in order to escape organised persecution, for as long as these people have a family member enrolled at the Academy or have a work contract with us, so that we can vouch for them."

It was the last card. Looking around, Scott could see that neither Gambit nor Bishop looked convinced. Paige's face screamed her doubts too, as well as Kurt's. They would probably have to start the X-Men Inc. with a very small team but time would prove them right and, sooner or later, the others would come around.

"Keep in mind," Scott spoke up, "that this step is a calculated risk, but if we don't fail – and I don't expect us to – we will be helping as many people as we save when facing off the likes of Apocalypse and Magneto. Naturally, I don't expect everyone to join us in this step, but I hope you will at least think about it. The process will start next Monday, so… let me know who is interested in joining till then."

There was an uncomfortable silence.

"Any questions?"

* * *

If you've enjoyed the chapter, please leave a review. Just let me know what you liked and disliked so I can keep improving my writing skills. Thank you.


	3. Adieu

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters except my characters. Which are quite a few this time around. Let's try it this way: I don't own any Marvel characters that happen to show up in the upcoming characters and which I'm sure you'll recognise without any need to name long lists.

* * *

 **Note** : Kataract52 was king enough to point out I had an abrupt change from chapter 2 to 3. He was right. I should have added a smooth transition, but I was so eager to focus on the two star-crossed lovers I ended up overlooking that need. As it was, I went back and added the missing transition.

The dialogue between Rogue and Gambit remains exactly the same. The only difference is a scene in the kitchen where Gambit meets several of his X-colleagues (pun intended) before going out to talk to Rogue.

If anyone is willing to do so, please let me know what you think of the addition.

* * *

 _Goodbye in French is 'abientôt', which can be roughly translated as 'see you soon'. 'Adieu' is a more final goodbye, meaning you may never see the person again, or at least not for a very long time._

* * *

 **3\. Adieu**

Gambit got a beer from the fridge and popped it open, taking a long sip. It was not going to happen. Working for the government? Over his dead body! Jubilee could tell herself this was for the greater good all she wanted, but the truth was that she was playing into their hands, creating this branch of mutant cops. Or former mutant cops. It was all the same! Alors, _he_ was not about to be a part of that. He shook his head and took another sip.

No. What he _was_ going to do was… mais, what he should have done all those years ago. Get out. Oui, that was what he had to do. Drop out of this… yet another new X-Men encarnation. Year after year, the team just kept changing, and every time it seemed like the change was for worse, and worse and worse. Enough is enough, non?

What he really needed was to focus on the important things in his life. Which were what these days? He downed the rest of the beer. Did he even have a life outside of the X-Men anymore?

"Ya left a bit too early, Gumbo."

"Not early enough if ya ask me," Gambit grumbled at Logan.

For someone who'd been thoroughly messed up by government and non-government projects, the homme seemed to be taking the news way too well. Probably Jubilee's handywork. He always gave in to the petite.

"Bisbop an' Sam are talkin' alternatives…"

"Tais-toi, homme!" And Logan's stupid smirk as he got himself a beer only pissed him more. "Dere ain't no alternatives! Ya're in or ya ain't in. C'est tous."

Logan leaned against the kitchen counter with a beer for himself and held out another for him. Gambit breathed out his anger and accepted the offer.

"So whatchya gonna do?"

That was exactly what he needed to decide, and having Logan pestering around was not the way to….

"That is just so not true!" Jubilee almost shrieked as she entered the kitchen.

Dieu! Peace and quiet. That was all he asked.

"I'm just saying that flaunting alleged personal experience around is not the way to make friends," Paige laughed behind the petite.

But perhaps peace and quiet were too much to ask for. He turned around and his gaze fell on the backdoor.

"I did not _ever_ flaunt anything. I simply shared my hard earned – and very much unappreciated by you all – experience. Because I _was_ way more experienced than you whole lot put together in case you've forgotten."

"Gettin' scarce already," Logan asked. Gambit pointed a chin towards the two girls.

"Look, I just don't think the guys over at Quantico are going to be impressed by whatever you want to share, Jubes. Experience or no experience."

"Got some thinkin' t'do," Gambit waved the beer as a goodbye and headed for the door.

"I'm not a kid anymore, Guthrie. _And_ I know I'm jumping into a shark infested pool. But my wingman Sofia is jumping in with me, ain't that so, pal?"

Had everyone decided to swap the meeting room for the kitchen? But as Kitty and Bobby followed Sofía into the increasingly crowded kitchen, Gambit hesitated, a hand on the door knob. Could Rogue be about to come in too?

"Backdoor? That's not an insurance policy, Bobby; it's an accident waiting to happen."

"But isn't it worth the risk?"

"If Val wants me leading the team of programmers that will create the IT system for this department… why would I even need a backdoor? I will be in the heart of the beast!"

No, Rogue hadn't come in with that group. But perhaps in a few more minutes. He took another sip.

"But what if they decide to get rid of you for whatever reason?"

"Like creating backdoors?" Sofía asked. "That would be a good way of destroying whatever trust we hope to create in between the different factions that are involved here."

Trust? How could anyone even dream of trusting a government institution that might seem fair and necessary today but which was in risk of becoming a monster every four years!

"And that's not all," Kitty was now talking to Sofía, but Gambit's eyes had focused on the door behind the three young people. "A backdoor for me is a backdoor for everyone. It would just make the system weaker and more prone to tampering. No, I'm thinking… there are a couple of options I need to consider for this. I mean, layers of protection, you know? With failsafes and multiple identity checks and…"

"Getting' curious?" Logan had approached him without him noticing.

He shook his head and was about to say 'no' when the door opened.

"…can't be too troublesome to use…" Sofía was saying in the background, while Jubilee and Paige had a sudden peal of laughter about something back in the Generation X days.

Bishop… Piotr… Sam... … No Rogue.

"Gambit!" Sam called. "Just the guy we were lookin' fer."

Why would she stay behind for so long? Why bother to listen to the details of the catastrophe waiting to happen if you don't intend to be a part of it?

"We were talking to Summers, just now. Ah'm with you on this." And at those words, Gambit forced himself to pay attention to Sam. "Ah'm not goin' t' register and Ah'm not so sure that a database o' victimised former mutants is the way ta help 'em either."

At least someone had a bit of sense, and his eyes slid momentarily back to the door, but no, it hadn't moved.

"We're creatin' a sort o' black-ops team. Ta work outside o' this façade X-Men, ya know?"

Gambit felt a surge of irritation. He needed a break from all this. And where the hell was Rogue!

"Everyone else is still inside with Summers and Val Cooper," Bishop said, puzzling Gambit.

"What?"

"You were looking at the door," he explained. "There's no one else coming in because the others are all sticking with this X-Men inc., so they're discussing the details of how it's going to work."

 _All_ the others?

"Alors… Rogue?" But no, she wouldn't want to be a part of such a stupid…

"Oh, she left the meeting room just before us."

Gambit let out a breath of relief. He knew she wouldn't.

"Yes, she went outside, I think," Piotr said. "At least she was saying she needed some air."

Bien, bien. He'd go and talk to her then. They could decide what to do next together.

"But you know she agreed to be part of these new X-Men, right?"

What? No! That… She couldn't possibly… and, all of a sudden, he remembered all the times he had wanted to leave. All the times he _had_ left. He had always come back for her. Maybe the first time, before going to Shiar and then the Shadow King and… yeah, that first time, he had remained for Storm. Stormy. But where was Stormy now, the goddess-like queen of Wakanda? And what did it matter anyway, when it had been Rogue, for ten long years, that had kept him in the X-fold. She couldn't really…

"…Gambit's charm?"

His name had him turn his head automatically, but Logan had been talking to Jubilee, who was going outside with Sofia, Paige and Kitty.

"No, I don't," the petite answered him. "But I got enough all my own. And way better too."

"I know better than t'say it ain't so," the Wolverine chuckled as he closed the door.

For a few moments, Gambit could still hear Jubilee's voice outside, loud and careless as way back when, even if he couldn't make out any words. Rogue… Anna. She had once asked him if he would go off with her. When she had finally lost her accursed powers. She had pretty much said it in every word: if you love me, you will leave everything and come with me. If he loved her.

Did she love him enough to… Dieu, what was he thinking! This, now, it was completely different. She could be touched back then. Not to mention she didn't have her strength and invulnerability either. And now… it just couldn't be compared.

But if she loved him enough…

Because he _was_ leaving. For once, he was not to be shackled into something he couldn't stand by. Not even for her.

"Hey, LeBeau!" Gambit's attention snapped to Bishop. "Are you sure you don't want to join us?"

Gambit shook his head after a moment, his thoughts racing back to Anna. He knew damn well she loved him.

"This team ain't goin' t' be registerin'," Sam pointed out from afar. "It'll be just like the old days."

Naïve, Gambit couldn't help the lazy thought. Registered or not, it will all be part of the same big evil scheme. The beginning of hell on Earth for mutatnts. No, the important thing here was… She could do anything for him. That was all that mattered, deep down. All he had to do was ask. Not directly, bluntly, as she had done then. He just needed the right words. That was all.

"…to change," Sam was saying when he turned around abruptly. "Hey, I was talkin' t'ya! Where are ya goin'?"

He didn't answer as he left the kitchen, heading to the meeting room. He was going to tell Summers and Frost to forget he existed, then he would pack his stuff and… and find the right words. Because he was in sore need of peace and quiet if he was ever to think up the right words to ask her. Afterall, he knew almost exactly what her answer was going to be… if only he could find the right words.

* * *

Gambit pulled himself up onto the roof, careful to make himself heard. Rogue looked over to him and awarded him an acknowledging half-smile before returning her eyes to the thoughtful horizon.

Sitting by her side, he hesitated a moment. There was a steady grey cover, but the air seemed clear and crisp, so that, sitting up high, the eyes could see farther than usual. Gambit wished he could see as far as the future. He glanced over at Rogue. Such a peaceful profile, beautiful and sweet.

He lay one hand on her lower back and she shivered out of her thoughts to look at him with a surprised expression. It was a moment, though. The parted lips spread into a smile that Gambit ached to kiss. Instead, he kissed her covered shoulder, before sliding his hand up her back, to her far off shoulder, and pulling her into a tight embrace.

What if she said no?

Her hands snaked around his body, hugging him close as her face rested upon his chest.

What if she said yes?

He hadn't thought about that. He just knew he wanted her to be with him every step of the way, whichever way that might be. Gambit closed his eyes and tried not to think it over too much. He had already talked to Summers and Frost; had already spent over an hour drinking beer by the frozen pool and essaying the right words. Unfortunately, he hadn't found them. Right now, he doubted he ever would.

Smelling the freshness of her hair, he wished they could just stay like this forever and ever. No hell and no heaven, just a forgotten island in their midst where the two could be together for eternity. Unluckily, there's only Purgatory in between Hell and Heaven, and he reckoned neither peace of mind nor ease of heart were allowed there.

"What's wrong, sugar?"

Gambit loosened the embrace unwillingly and failed to summon a grin as a match to her smiling frown. Her hands slid gently over his legs, away, and he suddenly grasped them in his own.

"Come wit' me," he whispered, anticipating a no.

Rogue didn't say anything though, and he was almost afraid… Dieu, almost! He was terrified of daring to hope. Terrified to his very core.

"I ain't gonna register," he explained. "Ya know I won't."

Her breathing was even, her expression suspended. What could she be thinking?

"We can go anywhere, Anna. Anywhere. Jus' say the word, cher. Say ya come wit' me."

She did not pull her hands away. Even though she swallowed hard and looked away. Too late, though, he had seen the shining dampness. Happiness or sorrow? Her hands gripped his and yes, he did dare to hope. She gripped them hard enough to hurt.

"Ah can't." Hope turned to ice. "What for?"

"Anna…" One of her gloved hands was suddenly on his face, her fingers hushing his lips. There were tears starting to trickle over her cheeks.

She shook her head and fresh tears spilt.

"Ah wish Ah could, Remy. Honest. Ah wish… if Ah could control my powers, Ah'd already… We'll just be fightin' ev'ery step o' the way, Remy. Like we do now, only worse. You _know_ it's true."

Yes, he knew, but if they both wanted it bad enough, they could make it work. They could. He knew they…

She leaned over and kissed the gloved fingers over his lips, her warm breath touching him saltily through them.

"Ah'm sorry Ah'm always so mad," she smiled sadly though her tears. "But you know Ah still love you, right? No matter what, Ah'll always love you."

He meant to embrace her but Rogue was already flying away. Gone. Anna…

If only the both of them had wanted it bad enough.

* * *

If you've enjoyed the chapter, please leave a review. Just let me know what you liked and disliked so I can keep improving my writing skills. Thank you.


	4. Stinging Hearts

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters except my characters. Which are quite a few this time around. Let's try it this way: I don't own any Marvel characters that happen to show up in the upcoming chapters and which I'm sure you'll recognise without any need to name long lists.

* * *

 **4\. Stinging Hearts**

The sun had just risen above the horizon, making the untrodden snow glow eerily, softly. Despite the late December cold, the birds were singing. Gloriously, it seemed to Rogue. It made her feel like crying, really. Leaning against a naked tree, Rogue watched the lazy golden mist swirl ghostly over the frozen surface of the pond against the crispy chirps of the songbirds. It was so amazingly beautiful... so powerfully lonely.

Rogue sighed. The piercing chill of the early morning bit her nose and cheeks, and it made the cold in her hollow heart feel less bleak. She was almost thirty, she remembered for no reason. Well, there was still a year and a half to go, give or take a month, but nevertheless she was almost thirty.

Looking around, her eyes fell on the imposing building of the Institute. It had been rebuilt so many times over the years! Rogue had first stepped through that door almost twelve years ago as a confused seventeen year old. A lifetime ago. Or maybe several. It definitely felt like at least a hundred years ago. And yet, much like that building, it seemed as nothing ever really changed. Her powers, for example. They had been augmented, they had been lost, they had even been controlled... but always for only a few months at best. In the end, she always found herself almost as she had begun: alone. Not confused anymore, thank God for small blessings, but unable to touch, nonetheless.

Sniffing, which caused the cold air to burn her nose, Rogue crouched.

Back then, when she had first come to the X-Men, there were very few people in the group's ranks. Then their number had grown, bit by bit, until the number of mutants exploded and the place was swarmed with children. And then M-Day. Sometimes she wished she had lost her powers then. Not that she really wanted them to go away... not for long, anyway. It was only when Remy was around… which hadn't happened since the X-Men had become a private consultant company working with the Super Powered Affairs Department within the FBI, almost two years ago.

Blinking to keep the sizzling tears at bay, Rogue went over the sweet months the two of them had lived together. They'd been so happy! Powerless, both of them, but together as one. Well, except when Remy slipped away for a few days or weeks. Once a thief... She didn't begrudge him those stints though. She was confident he would always return to her, not to mention she had a job that fulfilled her independent streak.

Sometimes she thought that it had made it all worse, to have lived together as a couple, with all those perfect nights... mornings, afternoons, evenings! God, she had craved his touch before, but afterwards the craving had become a bitter hunger, especially as she knew he could satiate his hunger on any woman he chose. Even if his heart would still be (hypothetically) with her. It ate her inside out.

It had been better this way, going their separate ways. At least they could look back at their happy days together and enjoy the memories, instead of suffering side by side, unable to recreate their happiness while growing bitter and resentful.

She wished he felt happy, wherever he was. Free and… She shook her head as the tears slid down her cheeks. Was it very cruel of her to hope his heart stung every time he thought of her? Not that she wanted him to be in pain (even though she was), but just as a sign that he still loved her, that he still longed to be by her side (like she did).

They would have ended up hating one another if they had stayed together, anyway. She knew they would. And he knew it too. She had seen it on his face when he had asked her to come and she had said no. It had been for the best that he had wanted to leave; it really had.

Even if it hurt like all hell.

Rogue got up and wiped her face from the tears. She hoped he didn't hurt as much as she did. I mean, she hoped he still hurt a little, but only because he still loved her, and not so much hurt that he couldn't live the rest of his life.

Oh, it killed her the idea that he could have found another woman, another love of his life… Not that she wanted him to mourn her for the rest of his life, but at least for a few years. If he had loved her as much as he claimed, he would never forget her. God, she'd die if one day he forgot all about her and found himself a new woman and… She shook her head. Why did she have to be so cruel to the poor guy? Wasn't it enough that one person was already in so much pain?

Rogue took a deep breath and wiped the tears away once more.

Right, get yourself together. Time to return. Scott would have the jet ready any minute now.

One of these days, Rogue would move to the Academy for good. There was always so much to do, with the kids and everything, that she hardly ever thought of _him_ during the day. Only at night, when she returned to a cold bed and to the memories of those warm months in Valle Soleada. Even in the missions, she couldn't help remembering how well they had worked together throughout the years. But the kids… especially the younger ones, who were the sweetest darlings she had ever met, innocent and cheerful. At first she had felt awkward when they ran to her and hugged her legs or her waist, almost afraid to hug them back. It was a warmth that soothed her heart and made everything seem brighter and hopeful. The teens were more of a challenge, and she loved pushing their buttons, encouraging them to go further and further.

Rogue looked back at the swirling mists over the frozen pond. Almost like ghosts, twisting themselves bitterly in the memories of the past. She took a deep breath and took off, at high speed, towards the Institute and the jet.

Time to go.

* * *

If you've enjoyed the chapter, please leave a review. Just let me know what you liked and disliked so I can keep improving my writing skills. Thank you.


	5. Plans

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters except my characters. Which are quite a few this time around. Let's try it this way: I don't own any Marvel characters that happen to show up in the upcoming chapters and which I'm sure you'll recognise without any need to name long lists.

* * *

 **5\. Plans**

"Say what you will," Hank shook his head and got up. "It is still an unfair request for the people involved."

"Oui, but ya'll do it, n'est-ce pas?"

It all depended on it, in fact.

"You seem to surmise she will agree to it."

"Bien sur!" Gambit rolled his eyes, pushing similar doubts away. "Dis I'm plannin', I'm plannin' fer _her_. It's _all_ fer her."

Hank shook his head. "You may wish to believe that, but I'm certain you wouldn't have thought of it if, first and foremost, it didn't benefit _you_."

He had hoped the blue mutant wouldn't go there. Yes, he had a very definite interest in making it happen, but what the man seemed to be overlooking was that his interest and Rogue's interest completely overlapped.

"Alors, ye won't do it." Gambit's voice was bitter as he got up. He wanted to play the little saint? Fine! He'd find someone else to do it.

But Hank was shaking his head. "I didn't say that. If Rogue truly wishes to go forward with this... undertaking, I will do what is required of me. I'm just trying to open your eyes to the unlikelihood of it coming to pass."

Gambit couldn't help smiling in relief.

"It ain't forever," he added, light-hearted. "Is just a vacation, c'est tout."

"You do know she is thinking about spending more time at the Academy, don't you?"

Gambit rolled his eyes at the man's little faith.

"Oui. Summers say dat when he asked Gambit t'test the security system o' the school."

McCoy's insistently somber expression felt like a sharp thorn though.

"Please do not disclose my words to anyone but... it has been brought to my attention that Rogue may be attempting to secure a teaching certificate in accordance with the requisites of the state of Massachusetts."

That was... unexpected.

"This, of course, means she must enrol in an appropriate training course and, afterwards, must hold a teaching position for three years in order to be a full-fledged teacher."

Well, teachers have vacations too, don't they? Unless, of course...

"She started dis course already?"

"Not as far as I know."

Gambit breathed out, relieved.

"Mais alors, my timin', it is perfect, non?" He grinned. "A vacation before turnin' a new leaf. She will love it!"

* * *

Gambit pulled up next to the gas station and looked about himself. The last time he'd stopped by Snow Valley, the small town comprised of a dozen buildings scattered about. Of course that had been years ago, more or less when Generation X had been created. Over seven or eight years ago, really. Time sure flies by, doesn't it?

He got off the bike and walked around the store, standing at a corner and marking the beginning of the brand new main street. He studied the fronts of the buildings, noticing a couple of clothes shops, a shoe shop, a hairdresser's, a bank, a bookshop, a couple of diners and cafes, a... a nightclub? It looked more like a cafe from the outside. Gambit lit a cigarette and eyed the large sidewalk on the right side of the road, the one he himself was on.

Rows of infant trees stood near the road, snow filled flower beds in between each chilled stick, and a few park benches queued through the middle of the sidewalk. A loud group of teenagers had cleared one of the benches from the accumulated snow and the kids were joking about. One of them was juggling small balls of fire while a green headed girl tried her hand at juggling two baseballs, although they kept landing all over the sidewalk. One boy scooped up some snow and threw it at the fireballs but missed, which earned him a bout of laughter and a push from two other boys onto a pile of snow next to a shop... no, a museum. Gambit stepped over and chuckled: two museums, side by side. The Museum of Toys and Video Games (arcade prices down by half through the winter) and the Museum of American and Mutant History. You just couldn't have less extreme topics next to each other.

Grinning at the squealing boy half buried into the snow pile, Gambit headed back to the store. That building was a left over from older days but it had been repainted and looked neat enough.

"G' morning," a large middle-aged woman called from the counter, curious eyes trailing him.

Gambit nodded towards her, wearing his most charming smile, and grabbed a pack of crackers before gravitating towards the counter.

"Mornin'," he leaned on the counter. "Ya got pretty snowed in dis weekend, non?"

"I was beginning to think it was never gonna stop snowing, honey." The woman laughed. "So, are you moving in or visiting family?"

He gave her a coy smile. "What gave me away?"

"Only two reasons strangers stop by," she shrugged. "But I can't complain; business has never been better."

"Visitin'," he offered at last.

"What a pity," she winked. "That'll be $2.08 by the way. And if you're looking for a place to stay, there's a couple of hotels down the main road. Anything else I can get you?"

"Alors," he leaned closer as he paid. "Dose kids outside, one of 'em playin' wit' fire... ain't dat dangerous?"

"What, juggling fire balls?" Gambit nodded. "That's Lenny. His parents moved in around Christmas; we're practically neighbours, just a few doors from my place. But that kid's a sweet, and he has to really focus to keep the little things burning. He's no danger. His girlfriend, though... I think she's dyed her hair purple this week? _She_ is a danger. Now she got into running around trying to juggle baseballs; broke two windows last week and I don't think it was from juggling."

Gambit chuckled as the middle aged woman shook her head and walked around the counter, going over to the door.

"That one's been here for two years, ever since they reopened the Academy. I think someone in her family either is or was a mutant, I'm not sure, but she's a handful. Last year, she broke into the arcade because her parents had taken away her Playstation over bad marks or something."

The woman stopped by the door and looked at him pointedly. "Her mother set up the hairdresser's salon. Fine lady and all – _wonderful_ hands – but she really needs to get the girl in a tighter reign."

She sighed annoyedly as she stepped outside to look at the teens. "If you ask me, there are plenty nicer girls for Lenny in town, but boys his age prefer the bad apples, don't they? It's more exciting, I guess."

As Gambit joined the woman outside, his heart froze.

"Ah, it's the weekly field trip," the woman said. "History class at the museum."

She looked stunning, the long green coat hugging her waist, the cold morning breeze ruffling her auburn curls. Her face was shining, the wide smile making her eyes sparkle even in the distance as she laughed over something the little girl holding her hand had said. Gambit barely even registered the two teachers entering the Museum building, leading the line of a dozen hand-holding children inside. Rogue was the last one in, closing the line of children.

"Who are dey," he tried to sound casual.

"The children that attend the elementary school at the Academy," the woman frowned at the obvious answer. "They always have their Monday History class at the museum. They've got a section for children to play at reenacting and things like that."

"Ah non, I meant de ladies."

That got a hearty laugh out of her.

"They're the teachers, who else? Pretty faces, right? But I'm sorry to tell you they're both married. Well, except the one in the back. She's rarely around and I guess she's with the X-Men, but when she drops by she always helps with the museum classes. Her name's Anna." She leaned over and whispered mischievously: "Not taken, as far as I can tell."

That got an embarrassed grin out of him. He had not expected to run into Rogue this early, especially as he wanted to test the security before anyone realised he was around. Even Scott, who had asked him to do the testing in the first place, thought Gambit wouldn't manage to do so before spring, due to Guild matters.

He made his retreat with half a dozen pleasantries and went back to his bike. Time to focus on his job before the well-deserved vacation. So... sudden influx of new blood into a small town will naturally have one of two possible outcomes: either the locals get ruffled or they appreciate the reviving. In this particular case, the locals had obviously embraced the waves of newcomers that were making the town grow. At the same time, it still retained that particularity of the countryside: minding your neighbours' business, which meant anyone prowling would be noticed.

He got back on the bike and rode out of town. Most places gear their security against attacks in the dead of the night, which is the natural time for breaking in, as there are fewer eyes noticing you, so Gambit had decided to get in during the day, see how effective defenses were when an attack wasn't expected.

The first thing to do was to disguise his true identity and the simplest way not to be immediately recognised was an image inducer. He'd borrowed one from Kurt when the man wasn't looking so he just put the thing on his wrist and switched it on. Then he changed the bike's license – it wouldn't do for anyone to recognise it as his bike, would it? Finally, he rode around the walled campus, searching for hidden cameras and detectors, before heading to the front door.

The front gate had three cameras and one of them was very clearly set to identify license plates. Gambit parked outside and walked to the gatehouse.

"Good mornin'," he said, forcing a regular accent as he studied as much of the inside of the small building as he could. One of the individuals inside welcomed him with a smile while the other nodded and remained attentive to the screens. He got the distinct impression the security system included facial recognition software for the staff to quickly identify who left and who entered.

"Have you got an appointment, sir?" The young woman asked with a professional smile.

"No," it was a bit more difficult to throw in his charm when he was worrying over disguising his accent but not too much. "I came up on impulse, ya see?"

"If you'd like a guided tour of the premisses and a presentation of our educational philosophy," she offered, "I can contact the direction and they'll send someone to escort you inside."

"Dat sounds perfect," she returned his smile much more warmly this time.

"Who should I announce?"

A beep from one of the machines sounded at the same time as the other security staff, a man in his late fifties, grumbled to his feet and to a microphone.

"Kyle Simms," the man's voice reverberated through the street. "Fly right back over the wall if you don't want to be in detention for the rest of the month, boy."

Gambit stepped to the side to glance down the street. A boy with what appeared to be bat wings was hovering a couple of feet away from the large wall enclosing the precinct. He seemed to be considering the warning issuing from the discrete loud speakers set at regular intervals around the wall.

"This is the third time already, you should know better by now!"

"Boys will be boys," the young lady said in a loud voice to call Gambit's attention. "Your name?"

"Hurry up, Simms!"

The boy didn't hurry, not really, but he did fly back over the...

"Remy LeBeau!"

Merde! Gambit swirled to see Rogue flying down, the hem of her coat flapping. What a sight for sore eyes...

"Ah knew it had t'be _you_ the moment Bella mentioned a black eyed stranger." Rogue signalled the security staff girl. "He's with me, Amy. And when Ah saw that bike of yers... Ah just knew it."

"Bella," he cocked an innocent eyebrow.

"Yeah, down by the convenience store. The kids always stop by fer a snack 'fore we head back t'school an' she told me _all_ 'bout ya."

Well, that's what happens in a town where folks mind their neighbours' business, isn't it?

"Will ya switch off that image inducer already?" He complied, naturally.

"Summers, he ask me t'come an' test de security," he explained. "But Gambit did not expect t'see ya in town."

And that was absolutely true.

"Ah know," she crossed her arms over her chest as her eyes flashed under the slight frown. "He told me. Thought ya wasn't gonna show up 'fore spring."

"Tests like dis, dey work better when dey ain't expected, oui?"

She didn't say anything, just stood there glaring. Gambit breathed out a smile, happy to be face to face with her even if that hadn't been the plan at all.

"I been hopin' t'finish de test tonight," he rasped. "An' figured den we could... ... talk."

She humphed lightly, her eyes never leaving his. She seemed only half angry, which was a surprise in itself. Gambit had been away for two years without ever dropping her a word; he had expected her to raise a ruckus before giving him a chance to smooth things out.

"Amy, send t' the Direction fer an escort fer the mister here. He'll be givin' ya an alias as he's here ta test our security system. Try an' keep it quiet from ev'ryone else, 'kay?"

The young woman in the back said something he didn't quite grasp as Rogue started rising in the air.

"Ah guess Ah'll see ya t'morrow then."

* * *

No drama this time. But we can't have drama in every single chapter, can we?

* * *

If you've enjoyed the chapter, please leave a review. Just let me know what you liked and disliked so I can keep improving my writing skills. Thank you.


	6. Night Tests

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters except my characters. Which are quite a few this time around. Let's try it this way: I don't own any Marvel characters that happen to show up in the upcoming chapters and which I'm sure you'll recognise without any need to name long lists.

* * *

 **6\. Night Tests**

Lying in bed with her eyes open, Rogue was trying not to think about anything. Still she couldn't stop going over and over the very few words she and Gambit had exchanged that morning.

He looked well.

Almost as if he hadn't suffered much over these two years. (An' did ya want 'im to?)

Almost as if he hadn't missed her. (An' that stupid grin on his face didn't look like someone who's missed ya?)

Why _hadn't_ he called her in all those years! (Maybe 'cause ya kicked 'im away?)

If he had _really_ missed her, he would have called. (The way ya called 'im all those nights ya spent cryin'?)

He would have misinterpreted everything had she been the one calling. (Uh-huh.)

He would have thought she was head over heels for him. (Which ya sure as hell ain't, right?)

God, just stop it!

Rogue hugged her pillow hard.

He had said they could talk. (Maybe he wants ta propose...)

God, of all the stupid! She got up and off the bed.

He probably just wanted to take her out to dinner. Or lunch. Or coffee.

Say how much he'd missed her. How much he loved her. Ask if she didn't want to leave the X-Men for him.

Rogue snorted, pacing the room angrily now. It was a safe thing to ask anyway, because he knew damn well she would never do it. He could actually go as far as to propose without any worry of her saying yes. All just for show.

She punched her bed mattress so hard the wood creaked.

All just for show.

That was when the alarm went off.

"This is the emergency drill code yellow," the loudspeakers bellowed. "Please, remain in your rooms and keep away from the emergency shutters on the windows. Press the green button next to your bed to inform the system you are well. If you see or hear anything suspicious, please press the red button and someone will be with you in short order. Thank you for your cooperation."

Gambit had been spotted.

Sitting on the bed, Rogue pulled her knees up and embraced her legs. She should be joining the security squad right now but she knew it was just a test.

The security system was the best in the world. Forge had designed it: any living being crossing into the premisses, even if from above, was automatically tagged by the cameras and matched to all the individuals who lived, worked or studied at the Academy. If a match was not possible, the first level of alarm went off and a security squad comprised of mutants and regular humans was deployed to identify the intruder. If a fight broke out, the system would move on to code orange and the students would be led to a secure underground bunker.

Scott had told her he'd let Gambit test the system blind first and, later, having informed him of all the protocols, would ask him to find holes.

It had been nice of him to let her know of the plan. If she had come face to face with the swamp rat without warning... she had no idea what she would have done, but it wouldn't have been pretty, that was for sure.

After a few minutes, she flopped backwards and once more got a hold of her pillow as she listened to the silence.

...

"The drill is now over. Thank you all for your cooperation. Have the rest of a good night."

Or the rest of a bad night, where she was concerned.

* * *

I know, another short chapter. But at least now we know why she didn't blast him in the previous chapter.

Anyway, as usual, if you've enjoyed the chapter (or not), please leave a review. Just let me know what you liked and disliked so I can keep improving my writing skills. Thank you.


	7. A Proposal

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters except my characters. Which are quite a few this time around. Let's try it this way: I don't own any Marvel characters that happen to show up in the upcoming chapters and which I'm sure you'll recognise without any need to name long lists.

* * *

 **7\. A Proposal**

Gambit had no idea why he was nervous. Outside the obvious fact that Rogue might be in a bad mood. After all, she hadn't wanted to see him the night before, when the alarms had gone off, and she knew it had been on his account. Then there was the obvious fact that he was about to ask her to turn her world upside down, even if only for a while.

Still, he couldn't quite account for all the nervousness that had him standing by Rogue's door for almost five minutes now. Best to just get it over with and knock already.

"Who is it?"

Oh, she was guessing who it was alright. That slight intonation gave her away.

"C'est moi, chére."

She didn't open the door immediately. Gambit could have counted at least 30 seconds before the door clicked open and slowly gave way. She looked stunning! Her bright green eyes burning in a mix of anticipation and annoyance. He leaned on the door frame and let his eyes caress that perfect body she had half hidden under a dark red robe, grinning at the overgrown winter slippers in the shape of... grey mice?

"What?"

"Ya look more dan beautiful," he smiled. And she did, she really did.

"Ya knocked on my door at 7 am t'tell me _that_?"

She was in one of those half-annoyed half-amused moods, which meant he had to tread lightly, especially after two years of silence.

"Alors, Gambit, he wanted t'talk t'ya 'fore ya went t'classes... see if ya can find a lil' spot in yer busy schedule fer moi."

She lifted an eyebrow. "Classes?"

Gambit hid a sudden doubt. "Ya help wi'de History classes, 't least accordin' t' Madame Bella."

Rogue allowed a sudden smirk to blossom into a half-smile.

"Ah give a hand when Ah'm around," she drawled almost playfully. "But Ah ain't got no classes today."

He got the sudden impression she might have taken the day off her 'helping hand' schedule, which, if it were true, bode well enough for his goal.

"Alors, ya wanna go somewhere?"

His shoulder slid purposefully on the door frame, forcing him to take a step forward to keep balance, but Rogue took a step back and started closing the door.

"Ah'll get dressed," she was smiling fully now and Gambit felt a rush of pleasure course his veins as he stepped away from the closing door.

Hank was so wrong! She was going to jump of happiness at the suggestion. She had missed him, after all; he reckoned about as much as he had missed her. He paced excitedly by her door for almost twenty minutes before she finally came out, wearing the green coat of the day before and a dab of makeup.

"Since ya woke me up so rudely after keepin' me awake all night with all those alarms," she grinned provocatively, "Ah'll let ya pay me breakfast in town."

Uh... in town? But she was already walking down the corridor.

"It's a short walk from the staff dormitories," she was saying as he caught up with her, "through the grounds. A very relaxin' twenty minutes."

"But, chére, won't we be seen by de folks in town?" She frowned at him, obviously not following his drift. "Madame Bella, she be keepin' tabs on all single ladies. She sees us two an' she be startin' up de gossip."

Rogue laughed, loud and clear, carefree. Dieu, he'd missed that!

"Well, she wouldn't be much of a matchmaker if she didn't keep track o' the single folks in town, now would she?"

She laughed harder at his expression and slid an arm in between his as they stepped outside, under the bright winter sun that made the snow sparkle.

"Ya see, Bella an' her husband were near bankruptcy when the Academy reopened, but with the incomin' folks an' them havin' the only shop in town, they quickly bounced up."

The snow came up to their knees, at some points of the path through that wooded part of the campus. Secluded and intimate, as if the whole world had stepped back.

"In fact, they did so well, they opened up a supermarket down the street an' they've even hired two o' the newcomers as staff."

The sun rays, flashing through naked tree branches and bushy pine leaves, illuminated her profile.

"Ah guess she figures that the more folks settle down wi'their families, the more clients she'll have."

"Not bad thinkin'," he forced out when she looked at him, apparently expecting a comment.

"Yeah, but people need..."

Rogue tripped slightly over something under the snow but, as Gambit hurried to steady her, he himself tripped too and they both ended up keeling forward. Chuckling, they got up and carried on, his arm now embracing her waist.

"So, as Ah was sayin', people need jobs if they're t'settle here. Frost's been helpin' folks open shops an' other small businesses but it ain't enough so now she's thinkin' 'bout startin' some type of industry in the area."

The wall that enclosed the campus became apparent in the distance, a metal door incrusted in its thickness.

"What's Frost's aim?"

Rogue shrugged. "Ah think she wants t' found a sort o' Valle Soleada. An' she _is_ gettin' there, ya know. Wait a sec, I got the keys here..."

Gambit considered the idea, founding a community of mutants and humans living together, while Rogue got her keys to the wide service door and opened the three locks. It was a fairly heavy door, especially with all the snow. As Gambit stepped out, he could see the town in the distance, with its fancy main street and the several smaller streets irradiating from it.

"As Ah was sayin'," Rogue locked the locks with a loud clang, "in the school, we got all sorts o' kids. We got both mutant an' former mutant kids as well as their normal human siblings. We got the children o' mutants an' former mutants even if they're almost all regular humans. We got... Ah don't know! There's even this one kid whose mother was harassed fer bein' a mutant 'cause she had vitiligo, wi'these white skin spots on her face an' hands. Can ya believe how stupid some people are, t'actually claim she was a mutant 'cause of a skin condition?"

"Alors, de town don't have many mutants, den?"

Rogue put the keys away and leaned her head on his shoulder, enjoying the view over the town from their higher location.

"Ah'd rather not keep tabs," she said slowly. "They're all fleein' persecution an' discrimination, whether they're one thing or the other, an' they're all ready t'accept each other, whether they're one thing or the other. Ain't that what's important?"

Like Valle Soleada. Gambit embraced her, her hair tickling his face and neck, and he wanted nothing but to kiss her. It almost hurt, physically, not acting on the eager need. He closed his eyes and let it out. It was now or never.

"I ain't stopped thinkin' 'bout it, dese two years."

She looked up and he had to take a step back, his hands resting on her hips, over the thick fabric of the coat.

"Thinkin' 'bout what?"

"Valle Soleada. Ya ever think o' goin' back, the two of us?" He felt her slip away and blurted anxiously: "A vacation. Just de two of us."

"A vacation?" But she was frowning, and the frown seemed neither amused nor playful.

"One, two mont's." He grabbed her gloved hands tightly before they could slide away. "Just you an' me, chére."

But her hands still slipped away.

"Like before," he ended in a whisper, almost hopelessly now. "Chére..."

"What good would that be, Remy?" The bitterness of before was back in her voice, angrily. "We can't touch, remember? Ya wanna go back fer what? Ta remember what we had an' can't have again? T'rub some more salt on the wound? Is that what ya want?"

"Non, Anna! Non!" She held her ground, waiting for him to convince her. "I mean... we should go back but wid a power inhibitor."

Her expression changed suddenly, shock and surprise, and he pressed his hand, eager for her surprise to become a happy welcome.

"Gambit, he already talked t'Hank. He can get ya a power inhibitor an' den we be free t..."

Rogue turned her back to him abruptly, her hands covering her face with a grunt, then sliding over her hair.

"Ya talked t'Hank?" He started saying yes, that he wouldn't dream of making such a suggestion without first being certain it could be pulled through, but she cut him after a single syllable. " _Behind my back_!?"

This was not going well... "I had t'..."

"Ya _had_ to?" When she turned, there were tears of fury flooding her eyes. "HAD to?!"

Dieu, this was all going to hell! He'd let her vent and then he'd explained himself bett...

"Ya're tellin' me, ya damn swamp rat, that ya had t'arrange a way o' gettin' rid o' _my_ powers behind my back? That ya _want_ me ta get rid o' _my_ powers? Is that it, Remy? Ya _WANT_ me ta get rid o' _MY_ powers?"

Merde, merde, merde!

"Non, Anna! Is just fer a month, a vacation togeder, you an' me. T'start..."

"Ah can't believe this!" She cried. Ah, Dieu... "How can ya be so... so... _selfish_! Ya self-centered ass! How can ya ask me ta choose 'tween you an' my powers? It's who Ah am! Can't ya see that, ya stupid, stupid...! How could ya _ever_!"

All gone wrong.

Gambit just stood there, stricken, as she flew off, crying her heart out.

How could he ever had got this to go so wrong?

* * *

If you've enjoyed the chapter, please leave a review. Just let me know what you liked and disliked so I can keep improving my writing skills. Thank you.


	8. The Commitment

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters except my characters. Which are quite a few this time around. Let's try it this way: I don't own any Marvel characters that happen to show up in the upcoming chapters and which I'm sure you'll recognise without any need to name long lists.

* * *

 **8\. The Commitment**

Seven year old Ryan still had the tell tale signs of tears on his flushed face as Rogue escorted him to Cecilia Reyes. The doctor had agreed to move her New York clinic to Snow Valley just half a year before and, unless there was an emergency, she now spent every Wednesday at the Academy. So Ryan had actually chosen a good day to fall badly on his hand. Rogue was sure there was nothing broken, but the boy had cried hard enough to guarantee he'd at least need plenty of ice.

"Doctor Reyes is gonna fix ya in no time, Ryan," she smiled at the young boy, still sniffing.

The infirmary wasn't far from the primary school building playground, so they got there fast enough and were welcomed by an empty waiting room.

"There's no one in," Ryan whimpered.

The desk of the school's nurse, who mostly acted as a secretary when the doctor was in, was indeed empty and Rogue guessed she might be inside with Cecilia.

"Ya wanna knock," Rogue asked brightly, but Ryan wasn't his usual adventurous self just then.

Although he wouldn't have had much of a chance as Cecilia opened the door and smiled at both. "I thought I heard someone talking. Is there a problem?"

"Ryan here fell hard on his hand," Rogue explained, leading the boy towards her. "It's a bit painful."

Cecilia crouched with a 'let's take a look, shall we' and the boy whimpered in between sniffs.

"Am I going to need a bandage?"

Cecilia chuckled. "Nothing so dramatic. Let's get you inside, ok? Otherwise I won't be allowed to give you some candy at the end."

The nurse, standing behind Cecilia, took Ryan's hand and led him inside.

"I'll take the chance to give him a thorough check up," Cecilia told Rogue. "And how are you?"

Rogue shrugged a 'fine'.

"Well, let me know if you need anything. Even if it's only help to eat a box of chocolate ice-cream. And remember: men are _jerks_ who are definitely not worth the time we spend crying over them."

Rogue forced a smile as Cecilia went inside, then slumped onto one of the chairs. Everyone knew what had happened two days ago, obviously. Well, they didn't know exactly what had happened, but they knew Gambit has messed up big time. Of course the way Rogue had spent Monday crying herself dry had been a testimony to how badly things had gone between them. She was vaguely aware that some people were running a bet pool, trying to guess what he had done. They sure as hell weren't going to find out through _her_ , though.

She still couldn't understand it. What had made him think for a second that she would give up her powers for him? She quickly brushed a tear that was building up. And the worst was that a treacherous side of her wanted to put on the damn inhibitor and go off with him. God, she missed him so much! All of him. But he had been so selfish, so self-centered, so… God! As if the only problem was her power! It wasn't.

It wasn't.

There were other things.

She shook her head, not willing to admit that most of those other things might, just might, possibly, stem from her powers.

But the answer was still not getting rid of them. She couldn't deny who she was, could she?

She should stop thinking about it. She'd just start crying again and the first graders had been upset enough when one of them had asked her about her boyfriend, the day before, and Rogue had stupidly burst into tears. She was not going to keep on crying over Remy. She was not, period.

Sniffing determinedly, Rogue rubbed her eyes, trying to get rid of any salty humidity, and then got her cell phone. She needed a distraction, right now. She wondered if there wasn't a mission in the works she could get into. That should be distraction enough.

She had no text messages. Why did she stupidly still expect Gambit to text her a heartfelt apology? Hell, any type of apology! At least a penitent 'I love you'. It wasn't as if she couldn't see past his selfish idea and recognise he had suggested it because he loved her. Would it kill him to send a short 'I miss you chere'? Jerk.

No text messages. Obviously. She checked her email box and forgot Gambit for a moment. An email had arrived half an hour ago; an answer to her application to enrol onto a teacher training course. Breathing out, she opened it.

God, she had been accepted! She placed a hand over her mouth as her eyesight became blurred. Forget him, already! What a stupid idea, that she had swapped Gambit's suggestion to be together for a teacher career! The course wouldn't even start before September! She would even have had time to go on the stupid vacation… If only he…

The door opened and Rogue started to her feet. When she noticed Cecilia's worried frown, she realised tears were running down her face so she quickly smiled and showed her phone.

"Ah got accepted," she announced. "Ah'm gonna start my trainin' t'be a History teacher."

* * *

Rogue put on her boots and looked at the alarm clock. She was going to be late for breakfast again. Well, that's what happens when you spend the night crying over the selfish love of your life that you kicked out in a fit of fury: you get up late.

Looking at her reddish eyes on the mirror, she quickly applied some makeup to disguise the worst signs of sleeplessness. She'd have time for a glass of milk and half a toast if she hurried. For a moment she almost opened the window and flew off to the canteen, but it was snowing lightly and she didn't really have the energy. Maybe she should follow Ashley's suggestion and take the rest of the week off. Go somewhere to clear her head.

Or focus on the online History course she was four months away from finishing, as a prerequisite to be accepted in the teacher training course. Good thing her teachers had written those recommendation letters, praising her hard work and high marks; she wouldn't have been accepted without them. Yes, that's what she needed to do. Rogue picked up the book she was currently studying and opened the door. She needed to focus on her final essa…

"Remy?!"

For a moment her head was completely empty of thoughts. She had this weird feeling that time had slowed down, as Gambit, sitting against the wall opposite her room, opened his eyes and got up in a hurry.

"Sorry," he looked up and down the corridor. "Guess Remy fell asleep, non?"

"What the hell are ya doin' here?!" The words burst forth without a thought. "If ya think Ah'm gonna…"

"Non!" He lifted a hand up, but that wasn't the reason she stopped. "Remy ain't here ta fight, chére."

It was his eyes. They were brown. A plain, conventional shade of brown.

"An' Remy ain't gonna pressure ya inta doin' nuthin' or goin' nowhere."

Dull, brown irises on dull, white eyes.

"I jus' wanted t'tell ya I talked t'Hank an'... Alors, it's done."

Done? What was done? But she couldn't look away from those eyes. They looked so surprisingly… naked.

"See?"

Rogue forced her eyes to focus on the arm he was baring for her. There was a fresh looking scar a few inches from his wrist.

"De inhibitor, it is here. I got anoder in de oder arm."

Inhibitors. Finally, she understood why his eyes looked normal.

"Ah don't understand…"

"I love you," he said it almost casually and Rogue had to hold on harder onto the book because it tried to slip to the floor. "I don' wanna spend my life away from ya. If shuttin' down my powers fer a few months is de price I gotta pay ta be wid ya, den so be it."

She still didn't understand. She was even afraid to understand.

"I'm keepin' 'em fer six months," he said, pulling the sleeve down. "De time we spent togeder, wid no powers, back in Valle Soleada."

The thoughts that were just beginning to shape themselves melted away when he awarded her a weak sideways smirk.

"It's just fer a few months anyway," he said. "It ain't forever."

And then he just started walking away.

"Wait! Where… Where're ya goin'?"

He didn't even look back.

"California. It's warmer dere, dis time o' de year, and I ain't ever been fond o' no snow."

* * *

Sorry for the late update: Christmas Eve got in the way of my update schedule.

For all of you who celebrate Christmas, I hope you keep enjoying the season. For all of you who don't celebrate it... well, I hope you keep enjoying the month of December. After all, every excuse is a good excuse when it comes to celebrating, and December is a very nice month for celebrating whatever you wish to celebrate. Most months are.

: )

* * *

If you've enjoyed the chapter, please leave a review. Just let me know what you liked and disliked so I can keep improving my writing skills. Thank you.


	9. Moles and Deadlines

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters except my characters. Which are quite a few this time around. Let's try it this way: I don't own any Marvel characters that happen to show up in the upcoming chapters and which I'm sure you'll recognise without any need to name long lists.

* * *

 **9\. Moles and Deadlines**

Anna Raven got up with a start and groaned when her back snapped at the sudden movement. Blinking her drowsy eyes to make sense of what was happening, she realised she had fallen asleep at her laptop. Again. She was never going to finish her final essay on time if she kept falling asleep! The impatient knocking grated against her irritation.

"Ah'm goin'!" She grunted as she got off the chair.

"Laisses-le, chére," Remy called out from upstairs, his steps moving swiftly down the stairs. "I'll go."

What time was it, anyway? Anna pressed a key to snap the computer from its own slumber and noticed the long lines of gibberish. When she had dozed off, she must have fallen on the keys first, before searching for a more comfortable position. And from the look of it, she must have _pages_ of that drivel. Wonderful! And it was almost half past seven in the morning. She really needed to hurry up.

"J'arrive! J'arrive!" Gambit was grumbling as another bout of knocking started.

The deadline was Friday, 11.59 pm, and she still needed to hunt down a couple of quotes down at the library. She had no idea how she was going to manage, really!

"Mais alors!"

Anna frowned. Who was it?

"Hey, good morning to you too, swamp rat."

Was that… Jubilee?

"Hope I didn't interrupt your beauty sleep or anything but _some_ folks got tight schedules to keep, if you know what I mean. Oh, wait, you _don't_ , you lucky bastards!" Anna walked towards the hall, a bit dazed at the surprise, "Anyway, I gotta be creative with visiting hours and I figured I might interrupt something _bigger_ than just plain ol' sleeping if I dropped by in the evenings, which – level with me here – I would totally do, right? Anyways… Rogue!"

There wasn't much to do but laugh as the cheerful young woman slipped by Remy and gave Anna a big hug.

"My God, what are you doin' here, sugah?"

She smiled broadly, mischievously. "What, is it that weird that I could, I don't know, just wanna pop up and say 'hi'?"

"Oui," Remy said, closing the front door. "Especially 'cause nobody know where we been livin'."

Jubilee rolled her eyes. " _Elementary_ , my dear Gambit. I am a _fab_ -ulous, out-of-this-world first-rate FBI agent with mega-tracking skills."

"Uh-huh," Anna smiled, thinking that she really shouldn't have confided in Hank. "Who told ya? Hank?"

Only there really was no reason to suspect her friend and colleague. So maybe…

"Wait, did Emma use Cerebro t'track us down?"

Jubilee made a face and shook her head.

"First of all, Emma's too busy to care about you two; secondly, the last time I was at the Mansion someone joked that you were spending so much time at the Academy you'd end up staying there for good one of these days. So, when Hank told me you two had taken off on a vacation under the influence of power-inhibitors, I headed to the Academy, found out you'd been helping the History teachers and asked them if you had finished your teaching training."

Anna frowned. "Teacher training? How did you know about that?"

"Educated guess," she shrugged. "You've been helping History teachers _for ages_ , right? Anyways, they were surprised I knew about your secret and enlightened me on the topic: you were finishing your History course and you're set to start the training next September. I also found out that the Academy's Library has a protocol with the San Francisco Public Library. So all I had to do was check the information you gave them to get your card and, bingo!, got your address. It was really very basic, you know; didn't even take me three whole days. Travelling included."

"Gambit's impressed," Remy grumbled sarcastically.

"Nothing to be impressed," Jubilee flashed him a proud grin. "I told you: I'm as an expert tracker as Wolvie is. Only, you know, in slightly different uh… let's call it research areas."

Oh, it was good to see the girl's bubbly energy again. Although she wasn't much of a little girl anymore, she must be… what? 22, 23, 24 years old? Definitely something along those lines.

"Come on in," she pulled Jubilee towards the kitchen.

Anna needed to grab some breakfast anyway, before checking what she had ended up writing, and not writing, that night. The San Francisco Public Library opened at ten, so she hoped to be able to find those last two quotes today, then finish the chapter she had been struggling with over the weekend by Wednesday, at the latest, and then it was only a matter of re-reading everything for glitches and… and, hopefully, that would be it. But first things first.

"Ya wanna eat somethin'? Remy can fix ya his famous cajun eggs while Ah take a quick shower."

"Uh… actually, I can't stick around. I got, like, five minutes top before I clear out." Anna entered the kitchen and turned around, as Jubilee had stopped at the door frame. "I was hoping you'd be interested in giving me a hand…"

Anna shook her head. "Maybe next week, sugar. Ah got my hands full with my final essay. Gotta be ready by Friday evenin' and it's gonna be a close call."

Jubilee brightened up: "That's great! Let's have a lunch date on Saturday then. We can celebrate the end of your essay and then you can help me find my mole!"

Huh, what?

"Mole?"

"Yeah," Jubilee turned to face Remy, still in the corridor. "My team and Sofia's team, we're doing a whole bunch of statistics and stuff. Everytime there's a complaint of harrassment against mutants and former mutants, we receive a copy of the paperwork and get it all in this huge database identifying vics, perps, MOs and stuff like that. Most of the time, you just get a report and you file it in and that's it, and then sometimes we get harder cases and we get to go to the actual places, which is really cool 'cause sitting at a desk typing stuff was not what I had in mind when I first signed up, though someone's got to do the shitty part, I know. Anyhow, it took us, like, a year but we already got this really cool picture of mutant harrassment around the country (and by harrassment, you get from, what, name calling to murder, so it's a really big picture we're talking about here) with the type of crimes, and how victims are singled out, and… Oh, that's right, you don't know! We're getting some important breakthroughs on these Church of Humanity and Purity type of organisations, mostly local or statewide, but the thing is, we didn't even know they existed, right? And last month Sofia and I finally got confirmation, 'cause we started suspecting something about half a year or so, and we've been working on it all hush-hush, and so last month we finally got to tell Scott about it and now he's prepping a plan to deal with it, only, you know, everything's still with the ultra-confidential top-secret classified stamp and we haven't divulged anything not even to our supervisors just yet (though anyone with eyes can look at the data and see it all there staring you straight in the eye) and…you know what, I don't have time to go into the details right now, but you get the idea."

"Good thing ya ain't got no time," Remy smirked from the corridor.

Anna chuckled at the tirade (how did the girl manage it without becoming breathless?) but Jubilee seemed oblivious to it, heading right back onto her roll.

"So, all of this data on folks and stuff that we got in our database, you can't just access it like that, right? I mean our team and supervisors can, obviously, but we still have a registry system so we know who accessed what and when and, coming very soon to our desks thanks to yours truly, where from. 'Cause, you know, it's important to know where we're accessing from 'cause… I'm not going to explain right now, just believe me, ok? Anyway, someone is using some of the data we've collected to choose targets. Don't ask me how I know (and Sofia knows too, 'cause we're in this together, the making sure the database is secure, I mean), I'll explain it all in every exciting little detail over our lunch-date on Saturday, ok? The important thing is we got ourselves a mole and…"

"Mole?" Remy echoed, suddenly as alert as Anna herself.

"Yeah, that _is_ what I just said, right? Anyway, you two are _the_ chosen ones to find and thoroughly kick them in the ass. So," and Jubilee whisked a card from a pocket. "I got the restaurant's address right here. Nice and discrete up in the Marina District, near Lombard Street. Say, at twelve?"

Anna picked the card. "Yeah, sure."

For a moment, her mind had forgotten all about the essay. If a mole was using the SPAD database, the sooner they spotted them the better.

"Right… I'm late, really really late so I'm just gonna run now." She hugged Anna tightly and Anna hugged her back. "Great seeing you two."

She stepped away and waved, jogging down the short corridor. "See you Saturday!"

"Dat's a girl dat just ain't gonna change, non?"

Anna looked at the card and the essay bubbled up. "If Ah didn't have that damn essay t'do…"

Remy came up to her with a smile and a kiss. "Flushin' out moles takes time, chére. Startin' today or startin' Saturday, it makes no difference, n'est-ce pas?"

She guessed not but she still sighed. Anyway, her future as a teacher depended on the essay. If it ever got finished.

"Remy will cook ya his special eggs while ya shower, oui? Ya can't sit t'work on an empty stomach."

Anna kissed him back. "Thank you."

Even if coming West with him, enjoying that near honeymoon of over two weeks, was what had gotten her essay delayed in the first place.

"Fer _ev'ry_ thing."

Anna hurried upstairs feeling serene for the first time in over a month… which had been when she realised her work was almost lethally behind. She headed straight to the shower and came out feeling even more refreshed. She would finish it on time, for sure.

Remy popped into the bathroom as she was finishing drying herself.

"De eggs, dey are done."

For a moment, temptation got a hold of her and she almost diverted herself from her routine. But she was careful, always had been with this, so she held up a finger for him to wait as she opened the medicine cabinet.

" 'Tis a busy week, cher, and dose, dey be de inactive ones, non? Why don't ya just throw de lot in the bin an' have one less worry?"

Rogue got the pill, shaking her head.

"And risk fergettin' t' start? No way! Friday night, we'll be celebratin' the end of all this chaos and I ain't gonna be postponin' the celebration 'cause I was in a roll, skippin' all the inactive pills, an' then realise I've fergotten t'take the first one o' the active pills. You know, the ones that _really_ make a difference."

Gambit just shrugged, a charming smile brightening her day.

"Alors, chére! It happened before, ya skippin' one o' de lil' things. No harm done."

Oh, yeah, she remembered it all too well, back in Vale Soleada. She'd been frantic for a month, and the pill she'd missed had been nearer the end of the cycle, which are not as determinant as the first ones.

"Really?" She grinned at him, swallowing the pill down. "Well, then, _chére_ , pack up on the condoms as prevention, will ya?"

He laughed, carefree, one arm leaning carelessly on the wall, and she couldn't help eating him up with her eyes. She had barely looked at him properly over the last week, when the deadline had started looming fatefully in the horizon and she'd started panicking. Now, though, her head was cooler and clearer: she'd ask him to get rid of those pages of gibberish while she ate and then, completely invigorated in every sense of the word and some more, she'd sit down to work, no doubt much faster and more productively.

"In the meantime, Ah think those eggs can wait a few minutes, don't you?"

His widening smile said everything.

* * *

Yupe, you guessed it: Jubilee is about to hijack the story and put an end to the honeymoon.

* * *

I wish you all the best 2017 possible: healthy and peaceful.

* * *

If you've enjoyed the chapter, please leave a review. Just let me know what you liked and disliked so I can keep improving my writing skills. Thank you.


	10. Lazy Days

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters except my characters. Which are quite a few this time around. Let's try it this way: I don't own any Marvel characters that happen to show up in the upcoming chapters and which I'm sure you'll recognise without any need to name long lists.

* * *

 **10\. Lazy Days**

Remy breathed out lazily as consciousness slowly pulled him awake. The wonderful late Spring sun was coming through the sheer curtains, bright and warm. He closed his eyes, almost sinking back into the peaceful slumber, but it was only for a few tens of minutes.

Eventually, the soft warmth breathing onto his chest made him blissfully aware of his company and he opened his eyes with a smile. His Anna was using him for a pillow. She liked that, snaking her arms all over his body as she got ready to sleep at night, or as she enjoyed a late morning. Right now, though, she was sleeping. And well deserved it was: she had spent the entire night of Thursday to Friday typing away. She hadn't gotten up from the chair for anything, not breakfast, not lunch, not anything. The only thing she'd eaten had been some chicken nuggets he'd practically dropped in front of her and she'd grudgingly swallowed while typing.

Of course he'd been worried. So much so he had barely slept that night too, hovering in the background, wondering what he could do to help her finish the thing on time. He knew full well that _he_ was the one who had distracted her from her academic responsibilities and if she failed the deadline… Well, it's best if one didn't think about tragedies. Especially because this particular tragedy had been avoided when Anna, at 10.58 pm on Friday, had finally uploaded the whole thing.

She'd been exhausted. Nevertheless, she'd gone up to have a shower and had come down wearing a short, full-skirt dress, ready to go out and celebrate. Keeping in mind how little she'd eaten, he'd taken her out for a bite instead. And then, well past midnight, they'd made up for all the nights she'd spent fretting over the essay.

Remy gently brushed some hair strands from her sleeping face. She looked so beautiful, with the morning sun coming in and turning her skin milky-white. Well, except for the dark rings under her eyes, but those would be gone soon, now the essay was done with.

He made himself more comfortable, embracing her soft body in his arms, kissing her forehead gently. He could lay like this for hours… if his stomach didn't start grumbling for lack of food. Caressing her naked back, Remy decided to ignore it. It felt so… No, it wasn't going to stop. Well, he'd just have to slide off the bed carefully not to wake his Anna up and then eat a quick snack to return to this idle heaven of his.

Remy kissed her forehead again, two, three times, and cautiously began to slip away. He was already putting on a pair of boxers when he heard Rogue groan. Smiling, he went back to bed, knelt beside her lax body and kissed her belly button. That brought her whole frame to life as she started giggling and pushed him away.

"Just _what_ do ya think ya're doin'?" She asked playfully, grabbing a pillow and throwing it at him. "And why are ya getting' dressed?"

"Remy wouldn't call puttin' on boxers gettin' dressed."

"Ah would," and she streched her perfect body carelessly, thoroughly. The moment she relaxed with an abandoned sigh, he leaned over her thigh and nibbled it lightly, causing her another bout of giggling.

"Well, since ya are dressed," she pulled his hair mischievously. "Why don't ya get us both some breakfast, huh? Ah'll be waitin' here fer you."

"As my lady commands," he bowed and got off the bed.

When he got to the door, though, he glanced back and stood there, enjoying the sight of her as she finished rolling onto her knees and once more streched, this time like a kitten… or a sexy she-cat: her perfectly round ass going up in the air as her face caressed the sheets for a few seconds, before she raised herself up and those perfect buns nested on her heels. Then she put both her hands through the back of her neck and lifted her hair up as she yawned and streched her arms one last time.

"God, Ah need t'start exercisin' again," she groaned to herself. "My muscles are all cramped up."

Anna took a deep breath and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Her hair flew over her left shoulder as she whiped her head around.

"What are _you_ still doin' there?" She grinned widely.

"Enjoyin' the view?"

She laughed and got off the bed, her naked body almost glistening in the sun. And then, his eyes fell on the alarm clock on the nightstand. Merde!

"Anna, what time we was t'meet de petite?"

"Huh? Twelve…" she said as she also looked at the alarm clock. 11.27.

They both ran to the bathroom as each dropped a curse and both stopped at the door.

"Ya go ahead," Anna decided. "Ah'll get some clothes out."

It didn't take him long to be in and out, his hair dripping wet. Anna had pulled the bed sheets up and laid out her outfit – an airy light red dress with white lace at the hem – and hurried into the bathroom. Even while putting on his own clothes, Remy couldn't stop glancing at the set of pink laced panties and bra. He'd enjoy getting those off her body later on.

He was buttoning down his shirt when she came out, skin glistening where her hair was dripping.

"Ah'm never gonna be ready on time!" She panicked. "Look at my _hair_!"

"Looks sexy t'me," he ventured, getting a hold of his shoes.

"That's easy fer _you_ t'say. You ain't the one havin' t'blowdry it t'perfection in two minutes!"

She was puffing and blowing in front of the mirror, hairbrush in one hand and blowdryer in the other. If it weren't for the irritating noise of the machine, he'd have loved to stick around and enjoy the sight. Of course that would only get her more upset so he went downstairs and got his jacket, the keys for the bike… and waited. He looked at the watch: 11.42. With any luck, they'd be leaving the house at about midday and, seeing as it was bound to take at least 20 minutes to get to the restaurant, he might as well text Jubilee and give her fair warning.

* * *

I know: it's very short. I wanted to give them a moment of bliss before Jubilee takes over

(and _that_ is not a spoiler: you all know Jubilee is set to hijack this party).

* * *

If you've enjoyed the chapter, please leave a review. Just let me know what you liked and disliked so I can keep improving my writing skills. Thank you.


	11. Mission: Impossible

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters except my characters. Which are quite a few this time around. Let's try it this way: I don't own any Marvel characters that happen to show up in the upcoming chapters and which I'm sure you'll recognise without any need to name long lists.

* * *

 **11\. Mission: Impossible**

Remy only saw Jubilee when she waved, shouting a cheerful "Hey, there!" She was chewing like she was starving and someone might try to take away the food. Gambit laughed to himself, allowing only a grin to show, as he escorted Anna towards the petite. She really could use polishing those manners. She wasn't a kid anymore, despite her youthful upbeat spirit, and grown people need a bit of graciousness if they're to get to their goals, especially if charm is out of the equation. After all, the petite's brand of cheerfulness was contagious, not charming.

"I was starting to think I'd finish before you arrived," she motioned for them to sit in between bites.

"Sorry, sugar, we woke up late."

The girl laughed, mischievously. "I bet you had great reasons for it, _but_ as I told your personal swamp rat on the phone, I'm on a _reeeeally_ tight schedule here, so I started without you. Hope you don't mind too much, though I did order some bread and butter with extra cheese to be brought in the exact moment my friends arrived."

She waved her hand as a waiter passed by and reminded him of 'the special order for her friends'.

"Should be here any moment now. Oh, and I ordered some champagne too!" Jubilee gestured wildly above a bottle in a bucket of ice. "Well, not really, but it's a bubbly champagne-like drink which is all the same only better 'cause my paycheck doesn't cover the fancy-schmuck."

Oh? He wasn't aware of the FBI paycheck being stingy. In fact, he was pretty sure it was comfortable from day one.

"But, anyways," she shrugged. "I wanted to celebrate that famous deadline you were so worried about, so… ta-da!"

Remy smirked and picked the bottle of golden sparkling wine… Oh, demi sec. Being a sweeter sparkly, it was really best left for dessert.

"Oh, sugar, ya didn't hav'ta!"

"Course I didn't," she shrugged. "That's so not the point."

"Thank you. Ah really appreciate the gesture, but… Ah thought ya weren't working today, bein' Saturday and all."

Anna and Remy both. A waiter came in with the plate of butter bread and asked if they were ready to order.

"Mmm," Jubilee swallowed down, "ask for the Neepolitan pizza. It's their specialty and they come out real fast."

They followed the tip, added drinks and picked up the bread and butter.

"As I was saying, the FBI doesn't do the five-day week thing. If there's a case, you pick up your stuff and get your ass to work. No complaints. Anyway, Sofia and I, we're juggling three different cases here in California. Can you believe it? I mean, we spend months doing nothing but mind-boggling boring paperwork and then, boom, three for the price of one. Geez!"

Trying to avoid another tirade, Remy cleared his throat. "Alors, dis mole ya talked 'bout…"

"That!" Jubilee took a mouthful and chewed it while cleaning her hands and getting a briefcase onto her lap. "I got all the documentation right here."

Anna picked up the thick file with a confused frowned. "What's this?"

"Your new identities."

Remy glanced over at Anna, both lost, as Jubilee took a long sip from her soda. But then she noticed their frowns and swallowed the last gulp down, an explanation ready on her tongue.

"Yeah, I know, but I can't drink alcohol on the job."

Remy shook his head at that piece of information with a 'huh?' that really meant 'where did that come from?'.

"Ya've gotten t'drinkin'," Anna asked, a tone of mild surprise on her voice.

"Hello?" The girl's eyes rolled dramatically. "Beer with the meal does _not_ count as drinking."

Whatever. The girl was old enough to drink as she pleased, after all. I mean, what did that topic have to do with anything?

"Oui, oui, c'est bien, alors… what's dis wid new identities?"

"Well, I told you the other day: the mole, whoever they are, got access to our database. They choose folks that got registered for something minimal, whether it's a former mutant caught graffitiing or a former mutant who got mugged or whatever. They never target mutants, only former mutants, that's an important detail."

"How did ya figure out ya had a mole in the first place," Anna asked.

"Easy: how often do we get a second report on people who were first reported over an insignificant situation? In the first ten months, none whatsoever. In the last four? Nine. All in California. What are the chances of that, huh?"

The spike in numbers was suspicious indeed, even if he knew next to nothing about their procedures.

"What happened to those nine people?"

Jubilee shook her head vigorously. "Not nine people, nine reports. In every case, both the person we had registered as well as their close family got _accidentally_ murdered."

That put Remy on his guard and he glanced at Anna as she leaned forward. " _Accidentally_?"

Jubilee nodded, serious. "In every single instance, the deaths were ruled accidents: car accidents, fires, drownings, you name it, and, like I said, all ruled accidental deaths. Anyways, I got this gut-feeling, 'cause just think about it: how many accidents wipe out entire families? I mean, sure it happens, but if you start going into statistics and stuff (and the FBI is totally hung up on statistics), so if you start checking statistics you'll see that most family-wide accidents usually get at least one surviving individual, more or less hurt, ok, maybe they'll even eventually die of sustained injuries and stuff, but they don't _all_ die on the spot. So, nine cases of entirely-killed families right on the spot with no surviving members whatsoever? It doesn't fit the bill, period. Add the spike in numbers to that tab and it's downright begging for someone to dig up some dirt. So I started asking stuff around, only off-record, you know, didn't show my FBI credentials... didn't even give my name! And I realised that there were folks calling it accidents when there were obvious signs of foul play, and, ok, so maybe they weren't _screaming_ obvious but you look at the details and it's right there in your face: foul play, duh! And it was ruled accidental all the same!"

Hm. That sounded like the conspiracy lay on whoever was calling the deaths accidental. Anna seemed to be reasoning along the same lines.

"Are ya absolutely sure these deaths ruled accidental are only affectin' mutants?"

Jubilee rolled her eyes. "Well, duh, Rogue. The only families being wiped out in the state are _former_ mutant families. And before you say anything else, no, it's not a coincidence. And I'm not saying it because I don't believe in coincidences – which I don't – I'm saying it because... because it _ain't_! Period."

Bien, if there was someone out there targeting former mutants, who had managed to get a mole inside the FBI and had enough people in the right places to sweep the deaths under the accidental rug... they were dealing with a well-oiled organization.

"Alors, let's take a step back." That got Gambit a frustrated grunt and he clarified. "We don't know nuthin' 'bout how yer SPAD thing works, petite, have no idea where a mole could hide."

That got him an eye roll that extended to her upper body. "I _know_ where the mole can be... _anywhere_! That's why I need _you_ to help me flush them out."

Uh-huh.

"Ya ain't gonna find many willin' baits if ya don't share some information, sugah."

Jubilee gaped as if she'd just heard the greatest injustice in the world and Gambit couldn't hold back a smirk.

"Whatchya talking about? I'm telling you everything!"

"So just carry on tellin' us 'bout SPAD, then!"

"Oh, for the... Fine. It's the most basic procedure anyways. Ya got technicians alloted to each state, right? The technicians get randomly assigned to a state every week; a state getting one or more techs according to the numbers of reports in the previous week. They receive copies of police cases that have anything mutant related and register all the individuals involved."

"Gambit thought de Initiative did dat."

"Well, yeah, _their_ techs get the mutant cases and the SPAD techs get the former mutant cases, which, right now, are way more than theirs."

Anna finished swallowing her last piece of bread and wiped her hands with a muffled 'wait'.

"Ya said these killings happen only in California, right? Have ya checked the techs in charge o' the state?"

"No. We will eventually check them out, but, honestly? In between us? I don't think it's one of them. First off, they change state weekly. Secondly, techs create a file on a person and once they're done, that's it. They can't access the file again. I mean, not unless the name shows up in another police case, because they've got to reference every change they do to a file. So, not likely. I mean, sure, they could be waiting to get assigned to California, and then taking notes on the side of every person they register, or at least the ones that fit their objectives, but... Nah! Don't think so. They'd have minimum chances of finding the type of target they want with so much randomness going on. Anyway, they... oh."

Remy followed Jubilee's eyes: the waiter was headed their way with his hands full. In the silence that surrounded the arrival of the delicious smelling pizzas, Jubilee was busy stuffing her face. In fact, both Anna and Remy managed to start their meal before the petite could swallow it all down.

"Anyway, the techs register the intel and the individuals registered are divided into offenders and non-offenders. Whenever the cops need a background check (the police departments only get access to the database if they agree to send us copies of cases with mutants and former mutants) so when the police need a background check, they only get intel on folks registered as offenders."

Not so bad. At least not every single registered mutant, or former mutant, was searchable by anyone who felt like it.

" _But_ , in order to get any info, they have to fill in a form saying why they need the background check, and if the person is a vic or a perp or a missing person or is in danger or whatever. So, like I said, if the individual is a former perp, they get the info they need automatically, but if it's a former vic, then our analysts get called in, they analyse the reason why the cops want a background check and will send the required info _if_ and only _if_ it's relevant."

"Fer example?" Rogue asked.

"Oh, I don't know, say... say the cops have a potential witness or a person of interest on a robbery case. Let's call her Jane. What does it matter if Jane was previously harrassed for being a mutant or former mutant? They don't get anything. But, on the other hand, say that Jane just had her house vandalised. If she suffered a similar attack in the past, the cops will be informed that so and so (or unknown perps, whatever) vandalised or broke into her house in the past. Or maybe Jane isn't even a former mutant or anything! Maybe she was just mugged by a mutant thug. If she still lives in the same area _and_ the known thug still lives there too, the cops will be informed so they can check if there is a connection. Otherwise, if it bears no connection, they get zilch once more. Even the Initiative, in cases like these, they do nothing. They only come in if the mutant being checked out is a perp. Hell, the cops aren't even informed if the person is or ever was a mutant."

Fair enough, even if it still made Remy itchy. First of all, if the information was in the database, most people would flat out guess they were either mutants or former mutants; secondly, if you had the right skills, you could go over the failsafes.

"Now imagine Jane is missing. In that case, our squad analyst gets called in and he makes the call to send the police all the information we possess, 'cause it may be relevant, you never know with missing cases, right? Sometimes, when that happens, the police will flat out call us in to get the case off their hands, especially in busy areas or, more often, because they're prejudiced assholes. But, anyway, that's when Sofia and I go in and save the day. Another situation is if our hypothetical Jane is in danger. In that case, our squad analyst will first and foremost offer the police our assistance, all very quietly, under their command and all that. Here in California, they often welcome the help; in other places, not so much. Or, once more, they kick it over to us and don't ever want to hear about it again. But, anyway, that's how it works."

Remy sat back, thinking it over, as Jubilee took a long sip of her soda and resumed her attack on her pizza.

"Alors, de techs, dey don't have access t'de information outside de moment when dey's enterin' it..." Unless, obviously, one of them had the technical skills to overcome those barriers. "But de analysts do."

Jubilee nodded as she was swallowing.

"Yeah, but not the genetic make-up."

"What d'ya mean?" Anna asked.

"Well, it's like this: you need special clearance to know whether the individuals are, or were, mutants, and what powers they possess, or possessed."

"Alors, who are dey?"

"OK, that's, uh..." and the petite started counting her fingers. "The Initiative head analyst and the Initiative Director, or whatever they call Gyrich these days, our head analyst and our head manager, plus the squad analyst, and... the squad leaders. Nine people, counting Sofia and me."

"That's either some funny Maths or ya've been keepin' squads under wraps," Anna grinned. "I though there were only two, yours and Sofia's"

Jubilee rolled her eyes, putting her tongue out with a grimace. "We were accepted into the FBI ranks 'cause Fury pulled some strings, remember? So we got in even though we had no college degree and we were way underage for their rules. _So_ , the deal was we have to have a special-agent babysitting us till we turn 24, which basically means Sofia and I are squad leaders in title only."

Alors, there weren't that many possibilities, were there?

"Who have ya told 'bout yer suspicions?" Anna asked.

"Sofia. She's the only one I told. In fact, we've been working on this in our spare time, making sure we're hiding our tracks 'cause, imagine it's our manager, right? Yeah, we're keeping mum ab..."

A phone started buzzing and Jubilee grumbled under her breath as she read the text.

"Look, I gotta go. There's been a development and I'm needed ASAP. So, bottom line is... One: whoever's behind this, they choose either young families or couples about to start a family. Two: they study their targets carefully before causing an accident. Three: they prefer targets who live in houses in quiet neighbourhoods. Four: like I said before, their targets are all in California. At least so far."

"An' dese documents?"

Jubilee smirked at Remy mischievously. "Should you choose to accept this mission, those identities will be added to the database. You'll be newlyweds who've just moved to an out-of-the-way beach house after you had your previous house vandalised by some punks. You are both former mutants who had the very impressive powers of light-weight telekinesis. Oh, and your jobs… you have none. You won a small fortune in a casino and decided to take it easy for a while, maybe eventually start a business that will let you work from home after you sprout a kindergarten worth of kids."

Anna chuckled unamused and glanced at the file on her lap. "Ya got us a beach house? On yer salary?"

"Ha, ha, very funny. As _if_! No, I bugged Warren for a favour. He doesn't know the details, but I told him it was a life-and-death matter. Plus, if he could chip in with a supposedly casino-won-little-fortune, he could count on Wolvie also owing him a favour, so he probably thinks he's involved in the whole thing."

Remy couldn't help the sudden laugh. "De homme even know 'bout it?"

" _Obviously_... not. And don't you go and tell him, you hear? First, we flush the mole; then I tell him. Besides, you _know_ he'll be only too happy to have been of service on my cruzade. Not to mention, since when does Warren collect favours from Wolvie, huh? He's got way more diplomatic approaches to his problems. Not to mention I can always tell Wolvie that Warren asked _me_ the favour of asking him for help. And Wolvie wouldn't say no to me, anyways."

"Bien, ma petite, ya lemme know when ya gonna tell 'im so Gambit can make sure he's far, far away."

Jubilee started making a face at him but another buzz from her phone aborted the whole thing. "Right… are you up to it, or should I hunt down another set of newlyweds?"

"You an' Sofia will be the only ones t' know 'bout this undercover mission, right?"

"Yupe. I won't even tell the others. The X-Men, I mean."

Jubilee's phone rang and the girl mouthed a sorry before picking it up. "Yes, Elton, I know. I'll be there in five. Swea… OK, fine! I'll be there in fif _teen_. Is that realistic enough for you? Yeah, I know. _I know_! I _said_ I... ... You're making me late with this, you know? Bye."

She put the phone away with a roll of the eyes. "Sorry, guys, gotta bolt. So, what do you say?"

Remy and Anna looked at eachother for a moment, then both nodded. "We'll be yer bait, sugar. Ya can count on us."

"I knew I could," she smiled brightly, sliding off the chair even though there was still half a pizza on her plate. "Enjoy your champagne, sort of. And don't call _me_ , _I_ 'll call you, get it? Any contacts have to be through secure mediums to make sure we aren't spotted."

Jubilee got up and headed for the door, then ran back to them, a little paper bag in her hand. "Sorry, almost forgot. Here's a little wedding present to help you get on with your new temporary lives."

Remy picked up the little thing with a suspicious frown and peeked in. Oh.

"What is it?"

He looked at Anna and poured the contents onto his open hand. "Weddin' bands."

Anna laughed, but Remy didn't feel particularly amused. Those things felt solid and heavy. She picked the smaller one and slid it smoothly onto her finger; then, without a single hesitation, she picked the other one and slid it onto his. The first thought that crossed his mind was that his hand was now useless for pickpocketing, with the clumsy, heavy thing throwing off his finger and hand balance. Not to say it was tight too.

"Jubilee must have used Cerebro's biometrics," Anna said as she admired both ringed hands, side by side.

"Biometrics?" He echoed, not following her reasoning.

"Yeah, the ones we use t' make perfectly fittin' uniforms? Gloves an'all?" She chuckled. "There's no way she'd guess our ring sizes to a perfect fittin' otherwise."

If that was the case, his hand biometrics needed updating.

"Ya know, since we're married… what d'ya say to an after-lunch honeymoon, huh?"

Mais, at least there was a silver-lining to every bad thing, right? Gambit kissed her lips lightly, teasingly.

"I'd say lunch, it is fini."

Anna laughed and he almost forgot the cold, heavy thing on his finger. Almost. It would definitely take some getting used to. But at least it was temporary. Most mecs that got a ring on couldn't soothe themselves with that thought.

* * *

If you've enjoyed the chapter, please leave a review. Just let me know what you liked and disliked so I can keep improving my writing skills. Thank you.


	12. A Bigger Picture

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters except my characters. Which are quite a few this time around. Let's try it this way: I don't own any Marvel characters that happen to show up in the upcoming chapters and which I'm sure you'll recognise without any need to name long lists.

* * *

 **12\. A Bigger Picture**

"Hey, there!"

Jubilee leaned onto the counter, her best smile stretching brilliantly while her eyes went over the well toned body barely hidden under the oh-so-tight T-shirt. And then the world had the indecency of claiming _women_ buy clothes a size too small just to show off their bodies. As if guys didn't do the same. And they're worse about it too: women own up to their ploys, guys deny them.

"Three beers and one ginger ale," she said refocusing her gaze on the guy's beautiful… okay, his eyes were kind of a whatever nondescript colour, but he had that warm almost charming smile that made up for it. "The name's Jubilee, by the way. I'm celebrating with some friends."

"You chose the right place for it," he said and turned to get her drinks, giving Jubilee a great view of his shapely ass. "And the right night too: Mondays are slow here."

Great! Then he'd have more free time to spend on her. That is, on her drinks. Their drinks. Ah, whatever!

"Need help with that?"

Jubilee laughed, turning to Tom. "I got it covered. But since you're here, start hauling to the table and I'll be right there with you in a tiny lil' sec."

If only she wasn't wearing her mourning work-duds. She waited for Tom to pick two of the drinks and start off, then she sighed and picked the other two, lazily.

"Work pals," she added, hoping to dispel any misconception. "We're celebrating the successful… uh… end of a project."

The guy nodded, flashing that warm smile again but not giving any openings. Didn't even drop his own name. And why should he? He was advertising a first-grade bod, she… what was she advertising with that unimaginatively lose fitting grey T-shirt, the discrete and dismal-dark cargo pants (high waisted, obviously, God _forbid_ anything else) and an equally social-space-clearing boring jacket? She was so fed up with this obsession for grieving working clothes. I mean, sure the powers that be didn't bug her to wear suits and whatever, but… she might as well be working at a mortuary! In fact, it was a miracle the guy'd even smiled at her. Oh, well… she'd be leaving town soon enough anyway.

"You sure took your sweet time," Tom grinned, which earned him an elbow to his shoulder.

"Just so ya know, mocking-ass, chatting to a friendly bartender can get you a couple free drinks."

Elton laughed. "I don't think you've chatted long enough for that."

No, she hadn't, so she just shrugged and lifted her beer. "Here's to a job well done!"

Both men lifted their beers with prompt cheer, and Amy Turin, with her ever-bored long face, sighed before joining the team with her glass of ginger ale. Jubilee would rather die before admitting she might half-envy her colleague's cool demeanor. Not that she'd ever want to look that aloof, or wear the array of perfectly feminine skirt-suits in colourless shades… although she could live with hair that always kept itself perfectly in place. Anyway, there was something commanding in her posture that did get some doors opened way fast. In a way, she half-reminded her of Monet back when, but with less arrogance in the mix.

"You nailed that guy like a pro, Amy," Jubilee said after swallowing a mouthful. "This would have been one way too long mess if you hadn't seen through that jerk's cover story."

The woman shrugged and sipped her drink half-heartedly, while checking her phone and texting a quick message.

"Not that you guys didn't do a good job yourselves," she added while twisting and signalling the bartender for another round of beers.

"But the tip was Amy's," Elton smiled at their colleague, raising his drink to her. "You look tired."

She shrugged once more, taking the phone off the table. "Headache."

Jubilee smirked. If they were to believe her, she'd be a medical curiosity: Ms. Cronic Headache. It was just her excuse for being the poster child of apathy. Whatever.

"Ol' Ray was pretty miffed, though," Tom chuckled. "If he had his way, you'd be stuck indoors all the time. What has he got against you, anyway?"

Amy shrugged and focused on her baby bird sipping. Jubilee, however, had her suspicions: there must be a typical high ranking asshole in the Bureau who knew Amy and wanted her protected inside a secured building as much as possible. Family, most likely. Once, Jubilee had almost stumbled upon a conversation that would have turned her suspicions to certainties, but, Amy Turin being her uptight self, she had quickly cut short her sizzling angry tirade and put an end to the phone conversation.

"We can't get rid of him soon enough," Tom carried on, grinning at Jubilee. "It's about time you turned 24."

She laughed as the bartender set the new drinks on the table.

"Amen to _that_!" Even if her birthday was still eight very long months away. "And _we_ will have ourselves a celebration like no other in the bureau; and we can tell everyone it's nothing but a birthday celebration when in reality it'll be a…"

She lifted a signalling finger that had both guys chorusing as if they were choir boys: "Bye-Bye-Ray party!"

They all took long gulps from their beers, blessing the idea.

"Seriously, now," Tom said, "I'm glad I got assigned to your squad rather than Mantega's. She's what? 20? Those guys will be under Norton for _years_! And I hear he's a first grade dictatorial ass-hole. No one moves a finger without his permission."

Yeah, Old Raymond Chase was a walk in the park next to Norton. Jubilee took a long sip from the new beer and broke off with a loud sigh.

"But maybe you're right, Amy," she grinned. "It _is_ late and we got an early flight tomorrow…"

"What?!" Tom chocked."It's barely 9pm!"

"Just in case you weren't aware, Tommy boy, _that_ counts as late if you've been getting up at 6 and going to bed after midnight, which we all have been doing for, what, four days?"

"Six," Amy offered.

"Thank you," Jubilee got up with the rest of her beer in her hand. "I'll get us the tab while you finish those off."

* * *

The late May evening was surprisingly cool, even a bit windy, as the four walked up the street to their hotel. Then, out of nowhere, Amy stopped and claimed she'd forgotten her cell phone at the bar.

"Would you mind, Jubilee?"

Like, duh, obviously. Nevertheless, Jubilee smiled and curbed the will to check the time, even if she did set a quick pace. The moment they turned the first corner away, though, Amy stopped once more.

"What…" Jubilee turned, and sighed annoyedly as she realised the woman wanted to chat privately.

"I'm sorry," Amy started.

"No," Jubilee cut her off. " _I_ 'm sorry, but tonight is not a good night for whatever you want to preach."

Because Amy enjoyed preaching. Not often and not long, thank God for small favours, but she still enjoyed preaching.

"You don't have much time." Jubilee shook her head. What? "You're turning 24 next January, that's only half a year to go… and I don't know what you were told or promised or… but you must keep in mind that 24 is the minimum required age to _join_ the FBI. Which implies a two year probationary period."

"Which will be over this summer!"

"That does not change the fact that no one becomes an agent before they're 26, and most people don't run off to join the Bureau the day they turn 24 either. It's not likely they'll let you become Squad leader in-fact next January. Not unless you've got someone pulling strings."

Jubilee bit her tongue not to say anything, not to react. She had thought about that before, obviously, but, naturally, she'd decided to take on an optimistic stance on the whole thing. Raymond Chase didn't enjoy babysitting the squad, that much everyone knew, and she was confident he'd give her a vote of trust when the day came. If there weren't any big shots against her taking over, that should be enough.

"And I know you don't."

Jubilee snorted and shook her head. "Geez, Amy! Do you really have to be so melodramatic and pessimistic about the whole thing? And _tonight_ on top of it?"

"Why not tonight?" Jubilee rolled her eyes and looked away, ready to start walking back to the hotel no matter what else Amy had to say. "Listen to me! It's _not_ going to happen!"

"If you're so worried we won't get rid of Old Ray next January," Jubilee snapped suddenly, "why don't you apply to be the next babysitter, huh?"

For once, Amy's composed mask fell slightly, showing confusion. "Why would I do that? I have no interest in being in charge." Then her eyes hardened and she recovered her poker face. "And just so you know, if I wanted out, I'd be applying for an analyst position."

"Ok, so let me get this straight: you lured me away from the guys to tell me it ain't likely Ray'll move on next January. Why? What's the big drama? So Ray will hang around for, what, another three… hey, let's be pessimistic! He'll stick around for another five, hell!, ten years! So what? He may be an ass but he doesn't make our lives shit."

Unlike Norton.

"Look, you need to change, Jubilee. You need to show the people in charge that you can be a part of the system."

Oh, she could so see where this was going. "Nope. I am _not_ gonna wear no freaking suit. Forget about it!"

"It's not about clothes…"

Though the way her eyes went over Jubilee's outfit swore differently. Well, Jubilee had already given up colour for the system's sake. Ok, and to put an end to Ray's comments. But she drew the line at that; she was not on her way to become a 'suit'. Not gonna happen.

"You talk and act like a teenager," Jubilee almost choked at that. "I don't care about none of that, personally. You're a natural born leader and you do get the job done, that's what matters to me. But the people that make decisions, all they see is… is..."

Jubilee waited for it. "What?"

"They see an unreliable, immature former mutant. A female on top of it. No one is going to let you be in charge of anything, not while they see you like that. You could solve every case you get in three hours flat, they still wouldn't let you climb up. They're fine with giving you every honorary title they can think of, but they won't go beyond that."

Jubilee took a deep breath. Okay, so it was the pessimistic view she'd been trying to overlook. So what?

"And you're telling me all this 'cause?"

"Because I can see a bigger picture, while you're focusing on the here and now. I _am_ devoted to the SPAD and although, right now, we're nothing but the black sheep in the Bureau family, the ones no one would mind if they fell through the cracks… Listen to me: if we play our hands right, we can make SPAD into something greater. We _can_ make a difference. But not while we're all treated like children. What we need is strong leadership. Not Ray, not Norton, not anyone that doesn't have two feet in the mutant _and_ former mutant world. And unless another candidate joins the game, you're the only person that fits the bill. Or will be, if you ever decide to grow up."

Jubilee's head jerked towards the watch on her wrist. It was almost 9.40. She took a deep breath.

"Your… stance… It isn't helping you. In fact, it's earning you many… I wouldn't say enemies, but opponents, definitely. This is a world of serious looking white never-been-mutant men that follow very strict rules. You're a happy-go-lucky Asian former mutant woman who shows nothing but contempt for the rules and who got pushed down their throats. If you don't start compromising…"

"You mean, if I don't start sucking up to them."

Amy shrugged. "We all have to make sacrifices in order to reach our goals."

9.40.

"Well, I'm tired, and you supposedly have a headache, so… goodnight."

* * *

If you've enjoyed the chapter, please leave a review. Just let me know what you liked and disliked so I can keep improving my writing skills. Thank you.


	13. Fronts and Covers

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters except my characters. Which are quite a few this time around. Let's try it this way: I don't own any Marvel characters that happen to show up in the upcoming chapters and which I'm sure you'll recognise without any need to name long lists.

* * *

 **13\. Fronts and Covers**

Jubilee flopped onto her bed, wrapped in one of those fluffy white hotel towels, her wet hair soaking the pillow. God, she felt tired! If only she could close her eyes and go to sleep. Instead, she glanced at the clock. 9.58 in dismal red.

With a groan, she got up and silently unlocked the door. In the silence, she could barely hear the soft footsteps coming down the corridor. She grinned. Wolvie would have called them loud and clumsy. Oh well, not everyone can have ninja stealth. She swung the door open and Sofia hurried in, while Jubilee closed it again, as silently as she could muster.

"Good thing I wasn't the room service boy," Sofia whispered cheerfully.

Jubilee shrugged, picking up the fallen towel and wrapping it around her body, a bit more securely this time, she hoped. Then she sat down on the bed next to Sofia.

"My condolences," Jubilee whispered heavily. "I hear you still haven't been able to locate the missing child."

"While your team closed two simultaneous cases?" She grumbled, glancing at Jubilee sideways.

Jubilee shrugged and flopped backwards. "Blame it on Ray. He doesn't hold us back, the way your darling Norton does. I swear I don't know how you put up with him. If it were me, I'd…"

"It's temporary," Sofia smiled feebly. "It's all a matter of being patient, you know?"

Very much patient. In the very least, four more years to go under the crappiest boss ever.

"Wish I could help you somehow," she grumbled, anger bubbling up at the unfairness of the whole situation. The fact that her entire life had been a way too long list of unfair events didn't help any.

"Help me find the child or kick Norton's butt?" Sofia chuckled grimly. "Personally, I'd rather the first over the second."

"Well, I'd do the second, _obviously_ , 'cause you don't need _any_ help with the first for as long as your hands aren't tied behind your back."

Jubilee breathed out tersely and closed her eyes, trying to hold back the irritation that kept bubbling up.

"What's wrong, Jubes? For someone who did a two-in-one job in less than a week, you sound…"

What? Defeated? Jubilee propped herself up on her elbows and was slightly aware she was sending death glares at her surprised partner in crime. As she did, though, the towel unwrapped itself and slid off.

"Hmm. Maybe you should put on something less temperamental than that towel. Or at least less prone to slide off."

Jubilee got up and once more wrapped the damn thing around her.

"Clothes are over-rated," she grumbled. "I'd rather be comfortable over presentable any day."

"Jubilee, what's going on? You don't sound like yourself."

Really? How did _she_ know? What if she was finally sounding like herself? How would anyone know, huh? Hell, probably even Wolvie, who was likely the one person who knew h… … Who was she kidding? He _had_ known her better than anyone, once upon a time. Nowadays…

"Look, Sofia, I'm just way tired, ok? And I really don't feel like…" she almost said putting up a front but shook her head instead. "I just need to get some sleep, really. I'll be as good as new in the morning."

Sofia nodded and Jubilee flopped back again not to see the worry in her friend's eyes.

"They've said yes," Jubilee reported. "Should have moved in today so… it's all a matter of waiting now."

"I still don't know, Jubilee. They'll be sitting ducks… and they don't have their powers to protect thems..."

"So what?" Jubilee got up in a blaze and the towel slid off once more. This time, though, she got off the bed, grabbed the damn thing and threw it on the floor. "They're X-Men. Powers or no powers, they can protect themselves just _fine_."

She almost added a bitter 'don't you and I have to protect our own backs too?' but held it back.

"I'm far more worried about that damn mole," she carried on, pacing the cramped room. "We've got _one_ chance at figuring it out. One! We do it right, and no one will even get the chance to put a prize on their heads. But we _got_ to do it right."

"We'll find the mole, Jubes."

Jubilee turned to Sofia but she quickly looked away as she noticed the worry on her face. Breathing out almost violently, she opened a drawer and got out a bright pink necessaire. She dropped the tampoons inside it onto the bed and hunted about for the one that had a thin light blue thread at its end.

"Here," she gave it to Sofia. "There's a flashdisk inside it. Just run the executable file on a computer and it will create a ghost user. Through the ghost user, you'll be able to access the SPAD database and no one will be any wiser. Drawbacks: you have to activate it and deactivate it every time, otherwise the security guys can detect it. Also, if a security check is happening while you're using it, you'll be discovered."

"In a tampoon?"

Jubilee couldn't hold back a smirk. "Pryde's idea. She said any guy would just look away from one of those the moment he saw it; so, in a place full of men, it's probably the safest trojan horse we can get our hands on. Besides, it isn't an ordinary tampoon: it's made of these special fibers that won't let scans read anything electronic or whatever."

Sofia nodded and Jubilee started putting the others back into the necessaire.

"The programme already has a… what's it called? Command line or something that will automatically do a search for… well, views to any files. That way you just plug it in, run the file, create the user, write our newlyweds' file number, get an automatic 'pling: no visits' then erase the user and plug the disk off. Shouldn't take longer than five minutes."

Sofia placed the tampoon inside a pocket of her jacket and buttoned it close.

"And if I get a 'pling: visits'?"

Jubilee grinned. "Then you're the lucky jackpot winner and the jackpot is knowing who's the mole before anyone else!"

Sofia frowned. "And if the mole has one of these?"

Jubilee straightened up, still naked, and sighed. "Then we'll have to get Kitty in the fold. But it's not likely."

Forget the mad skills such an ass would need to create a trojan horse of this type, the guy would first of all need to know how the database was designed, especially all the failsafes. So, very much unlikely. Unless, of course, the mole had in his fold one of the programmers who had worked on creating the database. But Kitty knew them, she had worked alongside them, had previously ran all sorts of background checks. Not to mention Jubilee had checked on them in the last couple of months and she hadn't suspected any red flags. Not even orange flags!

"Anyway, if that does happen to be the case, Kitty will have to run security checks 24/7. Because, and don't forget this tiny little detail: ghost users are _not_ invisible to security checks."

Sofia nodded and got up. "I should be getting back… and you'll want to get some serious rest. What time are you leaving tomorrow morning?"

"The plane's at 10am."

A shiver ran up Jubilee's back as she closed the drawer so she opened another drawer to get a T-shirt.

"Well, I hope you have a nice flight."

Putting on the T-shirt prevented her from having to answer. Then she carefully opened the room door and watched as Sofia walked noiselessly down the corridor.

Once the door was securely locked again, Jubilee flopped back onto the bed, the T-shirt creeping up her hips. She really should put on some underwear. What had gotten into her tonight? And yet, she couldn't help remembering how Wolvie would rather be au naturel and, for once, she could kind of agree with him, although probably for different reasons. She just wished clothes didn't have to be a giant tag categorising people as reliable or unreliable, as ok to promote or ok to kick out, as… . Damn, she missed the good ol' days when she could wear whatever she fancied. When her clothes were simply a mirror of herself, her personality, her mood. She wished… she wished.

The clock on the nightstand blinked to 10.27. With an unwilling groan, Jubilee stretched for her backpack and roamed about for a cell phone. Then she took two deep breaths and dialed.

"Yes?"

"Rogue! Just the voice I wanted to hear! You have no idea how that southern drole has just brightened my day, or night, you get the idea." Because, let's face it, the brightening was next to zickles and it wasn't poor Rogue's fault, as in at all. "Are you all settled in, ready to show that brand new bed some newlywed action?"

"…"

Silence. Uh… Oops?

"You know, if that's your way of saying I'm being a three wheel right about now, I'll be willing to hang up on your face. Give me the sign."

"Ah'm just tired wi' the moving," but Jubilee got the feeling she might have been more pissed than tired. LeBeau had better not go chasing any pretty face and mess up the mission. "Ev'rything's fine, sugar. Just fine."

She really hoped so.

"Great! I forgot to tell you something: those identities I got you, they aren't made up, you know? There's really a couple named Sue Ann and Pierre Garrarde. And he's French Canadian which, I admit, is why I thought of you two first and foremost."

"Ok. What happened t' them?"

"Got tired of being harrassed," Jubilee shrugged. "They didn't really want to report anything to the authorities and I told them I could get them to a safe place if they were willing to help me out. They're both working at the Academy under aliases, with Frost's blessing."

"Ah see."

She was definitely pissed at something. Damn it! Couldn't at least one thing go according to plan in her life?

"Is that dumb swamp rat trying to mess things up?"

"Jubes, listen, it just ain't good timin'. Ah'll… We'll call ya if somethin' happens, ok?"

No, it was not ok.

"I'll be calling you every week, Rogue. From a _secure_ phone. _You_ do not call _me_ unless it's really, and I mean _really_ important, ok? I can't risk having the whole operation blow up in my face because of phone calls at the wrong time, wrong place, _and_ with the wrong people."

" _Fine_. We won't call unless the place's on fire then."

"Great!" Damn, this was all wrong. "Look, sorry I snapped. Are you sure you're ok? 'Cause you seriously don't sound ok."

"Jubilation: Ah - am - _fine_."

Not. Whatever! It was none of her business, anyway, their relentless lovers' quarrels.

"Peachy. Talk to you next week then. Have fun on the beach!"

Jubilee threw the phone into the backpack and grunted into the pillow. Which was wet. God, she really needed some time out. Maybe she could take a day off once she was back in New York. Only Ray would ask 'why' and she had no good 'why' so she would have no day off. It wasn't even worth trying! What- _ever_. She got into the sheets and closed her eyes, trying to will herself to sleep.

Only she couldn't, could she? Not while the department she had heralded as the super-hero of the former mutants, their champion and defender against the petty villains of every day harrassment and persecution, her… ok, she'd say it! Her baby, so to speak. She couldn't let it become an assassin of the very people she had sworn to protect. People like herself, ripped of their protective powers and marooned by the ones who had kept theirs. She couldn't let it happen. Her baby-project had to be saved. It just had to! And _she_ was the one who had to do it. She couldn't let the naysayers like Gambit be proved right and, above everything else, she couldn't let the SPAD database become a list of innocents to be executed.

Jubilee rolled onto her back, feeling cold under the sheets, and breathed out. It was ok, she told herself. It would all be A-ok. She would definitely not let it happen, her baby project becoming a murderer. Uh-uh. Not in her lifetime, and not _ever_. They'd have to kill her first, whoever those jerks were.

It would be ok.

It had to.

* * *

If you've enjoyed the chapter, please leave a review. Just let me know what you liked and disliked so I can keep improving my writing skills. Thank you.


	14. Near Miss

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters except my characters. Which are quite a few this time around. Let's try it this way: I don't own any Marvel characters that happen to show up in the upcoming chapters and which I'm sure you'll recognise without any need to name long lists.

* * *

 _Note: This chapter is set in Muir Beach, which is a real place, 20 minutes North of San Francisco. Look it up and I'm sure you'll agree it's the cosiest little spot for a relaxing holiday. Oh, I am upping the surfing conditions a bit. There is also a YMCA in the small town, but I replaced it with an independent Sports Association which I named Sea Haven._

* * *

 **14\. Near Miss**

Anna rolled onto her back and slowly opened her eyes, blinking until they adjusted to the bright morning light. She was alone in the large bed and, as her hand roamed its cool expanse, it was clear she had been alone there for quite some time. Outside, the waves were breaking gently in the distance and she felt a sudden urge to kick and punch. Irritated, she sat up and embraced her knees.

Remy was nowhere to be seen, obviously. Why should he? Damn it all to hell, she felt like crying a blasted river! And the emotional turmoil of the last two days just made her feel sick to the stomach. The question was whether that sickness was caused by anger or… _something_ else. Only it couldn't. She even considered calling Cecilia to check if the pills could cause emotional disarray, because if that was the reason for her dangerously swinging moods… But it was. It had to be.

Anna got up and went to the bathroom, to have a nice envigorating shower. Nevertheless, her mood was still swinging between anger and misery when she came out, wrapped in a towel, and opened the medicine cabinet. She had only forgotten it once, back in Vale Soleada, even if the forgetting had been several days in a row. Still, it had made no difference because they had been under attack and sex had been the last thing on their minds. And then, of course, New York had been nearly destroyed, Jean Grey had been killed, and Rogue had gotten her powers back.

Anna sniffed at the tsunamic wave of sorrow that particular conjunction of memories brought on and she swallowed the pill.

But last Friday… She couldn't have forgotten to take the pill last Friday. If she hadn't stayed up all night, finishing her essay, or if she had interrupted her work for five minutes to take her usual morning shower. She always took the pill then. Always. And Saturday! If they hadn't slept in and then hurried like headless chicken… If _she_ hadn't. She hadn't even noticed anything till Sunday morning when she had finally picked the damn pack and seen… And the first two days of a new pack on top of it!

Anger sizzled up as she remembered Remy. Oh, yes, he had been spooked alright, at least when he'd run off the house to get her the emergency contraception, he had. Five seconds after she'd taken it, though, all worry was gone from him. Didn't the damn man realise that the morning after pill isn't 100% certain? But, no, of course not. Men! They aren't the ones having to carry a baby around for nine months if something goes wrong. They aren't the ones stuck in the house hushing a crying baby at all times of day and night. So why should _they_ care, right? Plan B's enacted, all's nice an' fine and off they can go holidaying about without a care in the damn world! And if the worst comes to be, oh well, they have done _their_ part. They sure as hell have, but only one way. See if Remy had _ever_ , just _once_ , worried whether she was taking precautions. No, of course not. Precaution is a female thing. Blast the man! Here she was, agonising, and Remy? Out surfing. Why the hell not?

Anna flopped onto the bed, clutched the pillow in her arms and tried to bury her head into it. She did not want to cry, and yet the desperate need to do so was a moment shy from bursting everything to hell.

"Chére?"

Anna held her breath abruptly. She was so not falling apart in front of that careless jerk!

"Anna, chére, ya feelin' ok?" Still holding her breath, she heard a light sound of something heavy being placed on the little round table by the window. "Remy got ya some breakfast, if ya feel like eatin'."

Her heart seized and her breathing resumed. He hadn't gone surfing then?

"Remy didn't know what ya'd want so… Anna?"

Great, now she really felt like crying! She shut her eyes tight against those stupid senseless tears as she felt him sitting on the bed, a hand carefully playing with her hair. Then he kissed her head and lay beside her, holding her silently.

"Ah thought… Ah thought ya'd gone surfin'," she ended up saying, careful not to sniff.

"Jamais d'la vie, ma chére!" He got up and kissed her shoulder.

"But… yesterday ya…" she started, but he interrupted her with a tsk, tsk.

"Remy, he never leave ya when ya is troubled." He whispered in her ear. "Yesterday… Mais, yesterday ya were angry, ya needed time ta cool down. Ya didn't need me buggin' ya all afternoon. C'est tous. And anyway, the surfin' board, it was fer show. I went round town, said hi t'neighbours. Mais, de trut' is… Remy, he will always stand by yer side, Anna. Toujours."

What else could she do but turn around and smile, allowing him to kiss her, gently, lovingly.

"Alors, hungry?"

Anna glanced towards the round table by the window. He had brought a tray with two light red roses in a narrow glass of water (she'd have to buy a little vase if he was going to keep up with these breakfasts in bed), and some bread, eggs, milk, coffee, orange juice… She pulled herself up to see it better: pancakes, maple syrup, jam, cereals… She chuckled.

"How many people were ya plannin' on feedin'?"

"Nuthin's too much fer you."

Anna rapped his knee playfully and left the bed. Maybe that was what she really needed: a good breakfast and… and getting busy. As Remy sat down opposite her, she couldn't help smiling at him, even if there was still a heavy load of worry an inch above her shoulders.

"So, now what?"

He brightened up. "Well, Remy, he been thinkin'. After breakfast, we can go t'de beach an'…"

But she shook her head in a negative. "We're on a mission here, don't ya ferget that!"

"Jamais, chére!" He grinned naughtily. "But we need t'recharge our batteries from de move, non?"

She laughed at that. "Ya lazy swamp rat! No, we don't need no rechargin' from the move. What we need is ta start makin' acquaintances, getting' t'know folks about."

"We can meet folks down at de beach," he tried with a boyish grin.

"Or we can see," she grinned back at him, "if we can find us a job."

His face fell immediatelly. "A what?"

"A place ta volunteer at," she said, chuckling. "Or a part time job… somewhere where we can make ourselves visible an' get ta know the locals so that, if someone comes snoopin' in, lookin' t'target us, we can easily spot 'em."

Remy sat back with a theatric sigh and ate a chocolate bonbon from a little bowl hidden next to the cereals.

"Alors, if dat is what ya want… Sea Haven, down by de beach, dey is an organization dat bring children from poor families t'have vacations by de sea. I hear some o'dese kids, dey ain't ever seen de sea before. We could volunteer dere."

Very nice idea. She nodded and picked a plate to eat some pancakes.

"Let's eat," she suggested, "an' then we can wander down the beach till we come across that place. What d'ya say?"

"Parfait!"

He picked another bon-bon as Rogue reached for the syrup. "Is _that_ all ya intend ta have fer breakfast?"

"Remy had breakfast while cookin'," he grinned. "Et alors, should we report our plans ta de petite?"

Rogue shook her head and took a first bite. Just perfect. The man was as skilled a chef as he was a thief, that was for sure.

"She phoned last night and insisted that we could _not_ phone her. She'll do the contactin'."

"Ah, bien. Is dere gonna be a set day an' hour fer dat?"

Rogue shrugged. "She didn't say."

But now that she was talking about the phone call, going over the conversation in her mind, she felt slightly uneasy.

"She didn't sound right. Maybe the case isn't doin' so well."

Gambit frowned as he reached for the orange juice jug. "Somethin' t'drink?"

"Yeah, thanks." But she was still going over the cheerfulness that had gone sour so quickly. "She was tryin' real hard t'be cheerful and all but… Ah don't know, it sounded fake."

Gambit shrugged. "Ain't nuthin' we can do t'help outside dis we be already doin'."

"Ah suppose," she said, glancing at the peaceful sea stretching till the horizon. It was perfectly framed by a couple of trees to each side. Heavenly.

A little bird flew onto the window sill quite suddenly, hopped a few times, twitched its head and plunged on. Anna smiled. She couldn't feel more serene right about now. And to think she'd woken up amidst a storm of sorrow and anger! All she had needed was a proper breakfast after all.

"Eggs?"

Anna snapped out of her reverie and shook her head lightly, a smile bright enough to match the morning sun.

"If Ah eat anythin' else, Ah won't be able t'enjoy a swim when we go down t' the beach."

She sighed, sheer happiness flowing over her. Such a beautiful view! Jubilee had picked the right little beach town. Muir Beach. Had she been thinking of Moira's ill-fated Muir Island when she had chosen the place?

"Ah should go an' get dressed if we're t'go anywhere."

But she didn't move out of the chair, her eyes still on the blue horizon. She hoped Jubilee might be feeling better today.

* * *

 _Just in case you were wondering... I don't know about Jubilee, but the moment I saw that name on the map, I just knew it was the right setting for this story._

* * *

If you've enjoyed the chapter, please leave a review. Just let me know what you liked and disliked so I can keep improving my writing skills. Thank you.


	15. Letting the Monster Out of The Bag

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters except my characters. Which are quite a few this time around. Let's try it this way: I don't own any Marvel characters that happen to show up in the upcoming chapters and which I'm sure you'll recognise without any need to name long lists.

* * *

 **15\. Letting the Monster Out of The Bag**

Jubilee woke up with a start, the image of Rogue's dead body still vivid before her eyes. She breathed out and got up. The alarm clock was five minutes away from going off anyway.

"She's an experienced fighter," she grumbled to herself in an attempt to dispel the nightmarish image faster. "They both are. They've been through far worse, far more difficult, far more dangerous."

Jubilee got in the shower and tried to think happy thoughts, but Wednesdays weren't particularly happy inducing. Although this one should be. Ray had spent Tuesday going over the two closed cases with her. Every action, every decision. Which hadn't even been that bad, as he had only disagreed with her decision of not asking for public assistance in the case of the missing child. Of course, on the other hand, he did pound on that one offense relentlessly, claiming Jubilee was allergic to public assistance. Well, what if she was? Allergy to well-meaning mobs tended to make mutant lives a lot longer. Anyway, after a day-long meeting with Ray, the following day should be a sea of roses, so there really was no reason for all the gloom.

Towelling herself dry, Jubilee returned to her room and opened the closet door, glancing at her working clothes. Cargo pants and colourless T-shirts. Then she took a deep breath and opened the other closet door. The one with a mirror and which she never bothered to open. Dark slacks with matching jackets and white shirts.

She had bought those suits after a particularly intense brainwashing conversation with Emma Frost. Yes, Jubilee knew she had to blend in. Yes, Jubilee knew there was a lot at stake. So yes, Jubilee had gone out and bought the blending in clothes. The few times she had had the courage to open the mirrored door and look at the things, though, she had quickly lost her nerve and closed the door again.

Today wasn't any different. God, how she missed her yellow raincoats and jackets. Her colourful T-shirts and sweaters. She had spent a lifetime wearing uniforms and never, not once, had she hated them as much as she hated those suits. She picked up a pair of dark cargo pants and a white T-shirt. They might be as colourless as the suit option, but at least they were her choice, right? Right. And at the very least, she could still distinguish herself from all the other sheep in the FBI building.

Her stomach grumbled and Jubilee hurried into the kitchen. Today was a big day, she reminded herself. Today, she was going to use the ghost user flashdisk for the first time. Today, she started her hunt.

She got the coffee machine working and started planning the day. The first thing to do was having a meeting with her team and finding out how well their trip to Graymalkin had gone. Or how badly. Amy, for one, couldn't befriend the most congenial creature you could think of, not even on a good day. Tommy had the amazing power of getting under anyone's skin with his jokes. Although, come to think of it, he should get on with Bobby Drake. Their jokes weren't all that different. Anyway, thank God she had Elton on her side. The guy might be as quiet as the proverbial mouse but he knew how to connect. The three of them had been going to either weekly or monthly meetings with the X-Men on their own for over four months now, and there was still no love lost between the two parties. Sooner or later, though, they'd just have to find a way to get along a little less icily.

The coffee machine plinged and she filled a mug. She needed to go shopping for something worth calling breakfast one of these days, but for now she'd make do with a box of…

Jubilee froze at the knock on the door. Had she heard it right?

Then she glanced at the watch: 8.14. Who on Earth could it be? The only visitors she had ever had… Well, her team mates didn't really count since, whenever they stopped by to pick her up on their way to the airport or wherever, they usually just rang and she went down. So, visitors… yeah, only the inaugural party Kitty and Jenny had forced her into when she'd gotten the place. No, wait. She finished the coffee in an Olympic gulp and dropped the mug in the sink. Someone had knocked on her door once: the porter. Some five or six months before, if her memory served her right, over something about clogged drains which a neighbour had tried to fix by melting down the said afflicted drains. Well, she hadn't noticed anything dripping down walls or ceilings so it couldn't be a repeat of that. And besides, neither the porter nor the neighbours could be called visitors, could they? I mean, not if they never actually entered the house. She opened the box of doughnuts, hoping they weren't too stale, and picked one up. Not to mention visitors, properly speaking, tend to have better manners than to bust in early in the morning. Nah. Someone had most likely mixed up her door number.

"Jubes!" She choked. And I mean seriously choked, as in trying to cough air in and doughnut out while her mind was all 'Wolvie? What the hell? At my house?' He hadn't even stopped by for the inaugural party because of some ruckus allegedly going on wherever! "Open the door. I know ya're in there, kid."

And nearly choking to death, thank you very much. Jubilee unlocked the door as the airflow resumed its normal pathway and cracked it open.

"You a shapeshifter or a clone?" She sneered. "Either way, you've just blown your cover 'cause the _real_ Wolverine does not stop by, as in _ever_."

"Very funny," though his expression didn't seem the least amused. "Ya gonna lemme in or what?"

She did, obviously. Let him in, that is. It wasn't as if she had time to spend aggravating him for not having the decency to check out her modest living arrangements when everyone she knew had very literally inspected every inch of the place in the first three weeks she'd been there. Which had been, what, twenty-three-ish months ago?

"So, how cold has hell become? Is it blizzarding down there or is it just frosty?" She opened the fridge and hesitated. "Beer or coffee?"

"Beer," he grumbled. "Nice place."

She gave him the beer, noticing his eyes going over the open living room and kitchen. "It's fully secured," she decided to inform. "Scott…"

"I know."

For a moment she wondered if Scott's offer to add X-Men style security measures had been Wolvie's idea. That kind of thing was totally down his alley.

"OK, spit it out." He frowned slightly at her as if he had no idea what she was talking about. "Well, duh! You haven't stopped by in almost two years and now you show up on my doorstep because?"

He grunted something that could have sounded like a 'oh that' before focusing on his beer and she crossed her arms. Someone must have been biting his ears to force him to show his face at her place. It just had to be that.

"Not to be rude or anything but I got to go to work, you know. So, if there's something you'd like to get off your chest, now's pretty much your chance 'cause I'm leaving in about ten minutes or so."

He finished off the beer with an unnerving eye steady on her. What bug had bitten him?

"Ya ain't stopped by the Institute since January. That's over four months now." Her blood froze. Keep it cool! Cool, cool.

"You haven't stopped by my place since never. You want to compare?"

As if that was going to distract him. Besides, someone had ordered him the preaching, she was dead sure of that now.

"Yeah, well, I ain't gotta stop by fer debriefings."

She shrugged. " _I_ don't have to do that either. My _team_ does and I decided it's about time they start spreading their wings and do that without your-truly's constant babysitting. Why? Have they messed up? They didn't mention anything."

She could so see on his face that he was not biting it.

" _Sofia_ stopped by nearly two months ago with intel that the _two of you_ dug up, about those Purity Gangs." She rolled her eyes, refusing to acknowledge anything amiss. "What's goin' on, Jubes?"

"What's going on is that I got to leave if I don't want to be late." That might sound like she was trying to run away from the discussion though, so she sighed dramatically. "Really, Wolvie! You're reading _waaay_ too much into this. I've been busy, that's all. _And_ my guys do need to get comfortable dealing with you guys. Me not being there is only going to help it happen faster."

He grunted and Jubilee felt a chill up and down her spine as his eyes studied her from head to toe. Now what? But she already knew. She knew! Goddamnit! Why didn't everyone just go to hell and stay there?

"Frost's right 'bout one thing," Jubilee breathed in. Keep it in, keep it in. "Ya need ta start dressing' fer yer role. I ain't ever seen no FBI agent wearin' cargo-pants every damn day. An' what's wi' the black an' grey? Ya're in perpetual mournin' or somethin'?"

"Fuck off!" And she could tell from the way he growled she'd just stepped over some imaginary line the man had concerning her language. "Like _you_ would ever suit up no matter what role you were supposed to play in whatever grand-scheme of whatever! So zip it already and if you don't like what you see, well, mister, the door's over there!"

There was something unnerving in his silence, eyes slightly narrowed at her. As in seriously un-Wolvie-like. I mean, no anger, no growling, no posturing, no nothing. Jubilee saw him get his phone out without ever breaking eye contact with her and press a key. For a moment, she considered turning her back on him, getting her stuff and leaving. He could let himself out whenever. But she got a feeling he was not going to let her waltz out just like that. And ok, she might be just a tad bit curious about who the hell he was ph…

"Raymond Chase?" Uh… What? "This is Wolverine. I just wanna let ya know I'm borrowin' Jubilation Lee fer a while. I'll take her back there the moment I'm done with her."

She was still speechless when he put the phone away and crossed his arms. She was stupidly speechless gawking at him. What the fuck!

"Now let's get somethin' straight, you an' I: if ya're pissed 'cause I bailed out on yer inaug…"

"Give me a break!" She bursted. "Do I look like I'm pissed over _that_? I mean, of all the things to be pissed about! And that was two years ago anyways, I mean… Do I look anal retentive or something?"

"Fine." Poker faced. "Then what was that crap when I showed up?"

She turned her back on him. "I was in a bad mood, so _sue_ me! It's not like you're helping any."

"Fine." Damnit, he was really pushing her patience to the limit. "Why are ya stayin' clear o' the Institute?"

"Wolvie…" she hissed through clenched teeth, pulling her hair back and not daring to face him. She was just that close to…

"I know there's somethin' wrong, darlin'. Is it Chase?"

Huh? She turned to him suddenly. "Chase?"

"That Turin woman mentioned somethin' yesterday." Oh, the little _bitch_! She was so going to… to… do something! "Said he hadn't let ya take a day off. I know ya ain't ever taken no vacations."

"I _chose_ not to!" She yelled. What did he think? That she needed him to go behind her back and snikt his claws at whoever stepped on her toes?

"Yeah, I know that. But I pressed Turin a bit an' found out this Chase asshole has been shootin' down yer requests fer days off over the last few months."

Yeah, that was exactly what he thought. That she needed him to shadow her every step and slice to pieces the tiniest obstacle! I mean, he'd spent years obsessing over his own dramas, never once thinking of her… well, maybe not exactly not thinking of her but… oh, fine! Never once talking to her, or asking if she needed help when, you know, she actually did need some help, and now…

"Since January, t'be exact. So I asked around. Ya been askin' fer days off regularly ever since late January. That's when ya stopped goin' t'the Institute. What the hell happened in January?"

She so did not deserve this grilling. But saying nothing had happened wouldn't help her none, would it? Especially once he realised she was lying.

"I'm tired," she turned her back on him and went to living room, flopped onto a sofa. "Happy now? I – am – _tired_."

And _that_ was absolutely true.

"An' this Chase asshole?"

She groaned. "He is _not_ an asshole. I usually ask for a day off after a 'field trip'. It's what we call it, when we go out in the field. Only good ol' Ray enjoys spending a whole day going over our every action and decision, and what if we had done something else, and what if the vic or the perp had done whatever, and… Sometimes it's two and three whole days of it. It's a pain in the ass but it's useful, ok? He's an excellent agent and I'm learning _tons_ with him. Got it?"

"Then why don't ya ask fer a day off after all the grillin'? Or better yet, why don't ya ask fer a vacation? Ya ain't had one in two years."

She scoffed. Yeah, when she found the mole. Then she could take off for a week or two. Maybe in ten years. Jubilee groaned and rubbed her face. She had to remain positive. By September the latest. The mole would have been found by then and she would be able to take her well-deserved vacation. September.

"Jubes," Oh, she knew that tone all too well. "I know..."

"STOP! You stop right there, mister. This isn't about you. And I really don't need anyone holding my hand. Not now; not anymore. It's not that I don't appreciate the thought and everything but… I'm fine. Trust me."

He didn't seem the least convinced though. Why did the man have to be such a stubborn ass?

"Ya don't look fine t'me, darlin'. An' those clothes don't help none."

Jubilee laughed, a hollow snicker. "And _you_ 're the fashion adviser?"

"Ya've always been one fer colour."

She smiled at Logan. Honestly. For a moment it felt as if she hadn't smiled, truly smiled from deep inside, in years.

"Life is dark enough," she mused half to herself. If you don't surround yourself with some colour. Bright and full of life, full of cheer. Because life… she isn't going to give you any cheer, is she? Good ol' bitchy life.

"Then why the mournin'," he insisted and she shrugged.

"Chase said he wasn't going to put up with unprofessional attire. No glaring colours. Light or dark, always neutral. No orange, no yellow, no red, no bright anything. Even Tommy boy got his ears pulled because he kept wearing these purple ties, or bright blue and stuff like that. Or with doodles. Chase actually had him take one off and throw it in the garbage bin."

"Sounds like an asshole."

Jubilee shrugged. "He also wanted me to wear suits and skirts and stuff, but I drew the line there. Said that if I was going to be out on the field, I was going to wear pratical stuff. You know, clothes I can move in."

He nodded and Jubilee felt calmer, now that at least one person in the whole damn world understood her.

"Ya wore a suit when ya was in Banshee's Corps."

She glared at him. He was supposed to have understood her reasons.

"First of all, the shirt was red. Secondly, it was my choice. Third, and the most important of all, I knew it was temporary. Very much temporary."

"Last time I checked, slacks were about as practical fer movin' about as cargo pants." Jubilee glared harder. "Ya can always have Scotty make ya a set o' slacks in our uniform material. Ya ain't gonna get more practical than that. Or secure."

"I am NOT going to suit up, Logan. That's final."

It was bad enough the job had already taken all colour out of her life.

"Jubes, ya need t'look at the bigger picture here. Ya wanna be promoted ta yer promised position, ya gotta toe the line like everyone else. You chose ta join this, remember?"

Jubilee clenched her teeth hard but it didn't stop the words from hissing out.

"I didn't choose to _join_ this, Logan. I _made_ this happen."

"What d'ya mean?"

Jubilee shook her head, but… what the hell! She had just let the cat peek out of the bag, might as well let it out and get it over with.

"SPAD was _my_ idea." Her baby all the way since its conception. "I contacted Val and had it look like it was her idea, or the government or whatever. Figured it was the only way the thing was going to take off."

She looked to the side, to avoid the surprised expression on his face. Now he knew it was her baby, she really didn't want him to know how diseased it was and yet that lump in her throat was just about ready to blow the whole thing out into the open.

"That just strengthens my point, darlin'. Ya should be even more willin' ta dress as a part o'…"

"It's not ME!" Why couldn't they see it? "It's just not _me_. It's like… like I'm bein' stripped of who I am and replaced by something else. I don't want to lose any more parts of who I am, Logan. I've lost enough."

Logan looked down and moved slowly, sitting down next to her.

"I can't help ya wi'that." He said softly. "But ya gonna have t'find a way ta make it work, darlin'. FBI an' the likes… they ain't gonna let someone who don't even pretend t'play by their rules climb up. And since you're the one who started the ball goin'… darlin', ya know better than anyone ya gotta get a better position. Somewhere where ya can have control over what happens an' how. Ya know that better than anyone."

Of course she knew that! She covered her face with her hands and groaned, divided between sacrificing more of who she was and holding on to the last strip of all that Jubilation Lee had once been. When Logan's hand sneaked over her shoulders, comforting, pulling her to him, she sniffed, even if her eyes were dry, and leaned onto him, into his warm embrace.

"I know it ain't easy, darlin'."

Yeah, she knew he knew. But the thing is, every time something had rocked Logan's identity to its very core, he had always ended up finding himself again. In the end, and through all the earth-shattering blows, Logan had always returned as Logan, The Wolverine, the best there is at what he does. _That_ had never changed. Even when he had remembered his past, his real name… James Howlett, he may have been born and raised, but he was still and forever Logan. That would never change. And she? She was the firecracker who had lost her fire. The colourful cheer who had lost both colour and cheer. The impossible to miss wise-ass who was being forced into invisibility, both in looks and actions. The Jubilee on the verge of becoming agent Lee. She barely recognised herself.

"I know it ain't the same as savin' the world, like ya used ta, but every person ya save is a step towards makin' this country a better place fer both mutants an' former mutants ta live in." His voice was so gentle, so strong that it brought uncalled for tears to her eyes. "Jubilation, I got nuthin' but the highest admiration fer you an' fer yer hard work. Ya created a good thing and it can only get better."

She choked on a bitter chuckle that came out sounding like a stupid sob and the cat waltzed out of the bag in all its ugliness:

"I created a monster."

* * *

If you've enjoyed the chapter, please leave a review. Just let me know what you liked and disliked so I can keep improving my writing skills. Thank you.


	16. The Mole

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters except my characters. Which are quite a few this time around. Let's try it this way: I don't own any Marvel characters that happen to show up in the upcoming chapters and which I'm sure you'll recognise without any need to name long lists.

* * *

 **16\. The Mole**

Kate Bennet both loved and hated Fridays. Being the end of a long, boring work week made it a delight… but, for some reason, it was the longest day of the whole week. Not to mention that she knew, beforehand, that the weekend would never be enough for all she had to do. Ah, there is no cross like a job you hate! Especially when the one you want is just ahead of you, unattainable.

With a sigh, she tried to focus on the list of police requests and clicked next.

"Here's your next police request, Kate," the computer informed her. "What action would you like to take?"

Request CGP009561. Neal, John had been murdered in his house after claiming one of his neighbours was involved in unspecified criminal activities. All neighbours were being canvassed and Blake, Melissa was part of the database.

Kate inserted her analyst id and password to call up the woman's file and studied it. She had been questioned in connection to drug traffic offenses some years ago, but that was it. It didn't mean anything, so Kate inserted her analyst id and password to call up the file for the case. Ha, her brother, Blake, Charlie, had been questioned too, but, unlike his sister, he had been convicted of drug trafficking. Heroine.

Kate considered the possibilities. If this Melissa girl was a dumbass, she could still be in touch with her brother; and Charlie, being a confirmed asshole, could very well be at the centre of the murder.

Just to be on the safe side, she inserted her analyst id and password to call up Charlie's file. That was definitely the face of a loser. For some reason, Kate got the impression the asshole was a mutant, or at least had been. It was a pity she didn't have clearance to check their genetic make-ups. Anyway, his body posture seemed to yell 'don't look at me', typical of harassed people, which drug traffickers sure as hell aren't. Yeah, he was a mutant (or had been). And if he was so scared of being made, then it was a sure bet his powers must be crappy. Probably couldn't use them to defend himself from a well coordinated attack. Kate once more inserted her analyst id and password to check further entries under the asshole's name. A string of police encounters, all drug related. Currently on this side of the bars. So, yeah, if the girl was a dumbass…

Select file: Blake, Melissa

Action: uncensor following information: name, age, affiliation, result of previous police inquiry

Action: send uncensored information

Select file: Blake, Charlie

Action: append all criminal cases where individual is involved

Action: uncensor all non-genetic information

Action: send uncensored information

"And that's the seventh request you've answered today, Kate. Shall we move on to the next one?"

Not yet, honey. I think I've deserved a break, don't you?

Kate shook her head, unamused. She had to be careful. One of these days, she might just start talking to her computer. She didn't know who had created the software they used, but one thing was for sure: the software was the nicest creature within the FBI building.

She glanced over the wide room. Linton and Marsha were chatting again. Linton had probably gone for some coffee and brought some for Marsha too. It was always the same excuse. This time, the topic was a birthday party. Marsha's kid was turning six, the little perfect blond princess whose obnoxious works of non-art littered proud mummy's desk. God, Kate hated kids. Sometimes she thought she'd been born hating them. Linton didn't sound thrilled to spend Saturday afternoon putting up with little shreaking she-devils, but he was going. Obviously. Those two had gone through Quantico together and the fact Marsha was so eager to match up Linton with her recently divorced sister-in-law had Kate wondering if darling Marsha wasn't just making sure the guy was conveniently around whenever she wanted.

Blasted assholes. She focused back on her screen.

Action: perform search

Objective: trend analysis

Parameters: former address area: Eastern Coast; current address area: California

Analyse: gender, age, civil status

And she once more inserted her analyst ID and password.

"It's one o'clock," a little window flashed. "Would you like the search to be kept on stand-by while you have your lunch break?"

Kate rolled her eyes and clicked the 'no, thanks' button. State-wide analysis requests were typically long so she opened the next police request on her system. There was a new one… a top priority case: missing person. These were always time sensitive so she inserted her ID and password and called up the person's file. Olsen, Michelle. A black woman living alone. She had been attacked by a neighbour, two years ago. Had claimed she'd been violently raped and beaten, but her body had healed over. Sexual intercourse had been proved, as semen had been collected, but the guy, a pillar of local society, had sworn it had been consensual and that she was calling it rape because he wouldn't break up with his wife for her sake. The case had gone nowhere, obviously.

Sometimes she wondered why the genetic make-up was hidden at all. She claimed to have been beaten up but there were no proves because she had healed between beating and getting to hospital? All in the same day? Healing factor, duh. And since the attack had happened less than two years ago, while M-Day was over three years behind their backs, dear Michelle was a full-fledged mutant. Kate couldn't help thinking that healing factors were the most interesting powers out there. She just never ceased to wonder why scientists wouldn't focus on mutants with healing abilities in order to develop vaccines and stuff. After all, weren't vaccines created based on the immune response of the human body? If they could use normal people to test new medicines, why not use healing factors to develop medicines in the first place? It was such a waste! But she was getting sidetracked.

Kate inserted her ID and password to call up the file on the guy. The moment she looked at the photo and his cocky smile, she was sure he was as guilty as can be. Kate despised a whole lot of people, starting with children and ending with those annoying old people who just don't know when to shup up and die, but there was absolutely nothing she hated more than rapists who thought they could get away with it. Some freaks should just be wiped out off the face of Earth, period. Kate looked at their addresses. At the time, Michelle had moved town and state, as she was now living in Oregon. Townsend, Arthur… there was no recent data on the guy in the SPAD database, so she looked in the other FBI databases. His ex-wife had requested a restraining order against him four months ago and he was currently living in Oregon. Too suspicious to let slide. Kate picked the phone and rang Jake Butterworth. Serious cases belonged with the Squad analysts, who not only had the privilege of being able to check everyone's genetic make-up, but were also the ones who decided what to send to the police.

"Butterworth," a strong, vibrant voice responded.

"Hi, Jake. It's Kate. I've got a case here you may want to look at. Missing woman; I'm thinking maybe kidnapped by an asshole who sexually assaulted her a couple of years back. He apparently beat her up badly back then. He was also a pillar of society… who just got divorced, got a restraining order from his now ex and is probably looking for a scapegoat for his failures."

"Right, uh… I'm on my lunch break now, but I'll take a look as soon as I get back. Thanks for the heads up."

Kate sighed. Jake was a man of few words, but those words had such a sonority that they seemed to echo for a few minutes in her head. And kindness. Kate had never met him, but he sure sounded kind.

"The trend analysis is finished," the software warned her. "Please insert your credentials so I can show them."

The result did not surprise her. She had run similar trend analysis for the other states and it had all turned out the same: people who were harrassed for being mutants tended to move house and head West, preferably for the sunny state. Right now, it had to be the state with the greatest former mutant population in the entire country. One of these days, someone was going to spot this and publicly label California as a mutie-lover state. It was definitely a state she would not move into. In the mean time, she was willing to bet that harrassed Californians moved house but not state. All she had to do was run another trend analysis to prove…

"Bennet!" Damn, and she quickly aborted the request. "It's lunch break. What are you doing here?"

"Uh… I was just answering an urgent request, Mr Wilkins."

The head analyst was an old-fashioned man who thought mothers should stay at home with their children and be the best homemakers their husbands could buy. But he wasn't obnoxious about it, and Kate particularly liked when he grumbled against domestic violence, saying those men were the ones forcing the women out of home and their God-chosen role in society.

"This isn't a hospital, Bennet. There's no one going to die if the request waits for another hour before you answer it. Now you go eat and get some air." He turned his back to return to his office. "I don't want my people getting sick because they're too obsessed to eat properly or to do some exercise. Out!"

"Yes, sir."

And Kate obediently logged out.

"See you soon, Kate," the screen flashed with a light blue background. "And enjoy your lunch."

Enjoy her lunch! A peanut butter sandwich? What the hell was there to enjoy in a peanut butter sandwich? She'd go down, eat and hurry up. Nicolas Wilkins had often told her he wanted her taking an entire one hour lunch break, claiming that being a workaholic would eventually undermine her mental health and, therefore, her productivity. If she was eating in less than an hour, then she should go out for a walk, because physical exercise is essential to keeping good physical and mental health. Suffice to say that every single sheep under his wing loved him for demanding full lunch breaks and not bothering over five to ten minute delays.

However, Kate had more important things to consider than mental health obsessions. She wanted to do at least half a dozen more trend analysis before the day was over, so she could then spend the weekend mulling over the results. Lunch time was the perfect time to do them because no one was looking… except, of course, when Wilkins stopped by to check all his minnions were gone. With any luck, he wouldn't stick around his office the whole of his lunch break and she would be able to make an early return.

* * *

If you've enjoyed the chapter, please leave a review. Just let me know what you liked and disliked so I can keep improving my writing skills. Thank you.


	17. The Firecracker Outside The Mole Hole

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters except my characters. Which are quite a few this time around. Let's try it this way: I don't own any Marvel characters that happen to show up in the upcoming chapters and which I'm sure you'll recognise without any need to name long lists.

* * *

 **17\. The Firecracker Outside The Mole Hole**

It was officially summer, or so the news had said, and Jubilee couldn't feel more depressed about it. Okay, maybe depressed was a bit strong. Annoyed, irritated, peeved… and her work colleagues would probably add bitchy to the list. She had been waiting for the mole to act for over four weeks! Over a month! For all she knew, the Evil Killer Mole was out killing off more families while she was waiting like an asshole for them to knock on her decoy's door. And just because there hadn't been any more deaths since May, it didn't mean they weren't staking out innocent people, ready to wipe them out. And what was she doing? Sitting and waiting.

Jubilee put the cup of coffee on her desk and sat down. It was 12.47 so there was almost no one around yet. She quickly inserted the flashdisk and ran the executable file, creating a ghost user. No plings, obviousl…

"One reference to file: Sue Ann Garrarde (maiden name: Atkins)

Date: Today. 01.04 pm

Reference: search, objective: trend analysis

User request: Bennet, Kate

Parameters: former address area: Eastern Coast; current address area: California

Analyse: gender, age, civil status"

"One reference to file: Pierre Garrarde

Date: Today. 01.04 pm

Reference: search, objective: trend analysis

User request: Bennet, Kate

Parameters: former address area: Eastern Coast; current address area: California

Analyse: gender, age, civil status"

Oh, my, God! This was it. This was _it_! Kate Bennet was the freaking mole! Uh… Who was Kate Bennet? Jubilee quickly opened a window and searched for the hierarchy organigram… hmm… Ha! She was the SPAD analyst for the West Coast. Oh. That meant running trend analysis requests was part of her job description. Great. False alarm. Unless… it wasn't a bad place to hide a mole. Sure, analysts didn't have access to genetic make-up but most families moving home due to harassment were either mutants or former mutants. On the other hand, this Bennet hadn't really accessed the file and that search request must have involved thousands of people. So it really was just a false ala…

"One reference to file: Sue Ann Garrarde (maiden name: Atkins)

Date: Today. 01.52 pm

Reference: visit

File opened: Today. 01.52 pm

File closed: …

User request: Bennet, Kate"

Jubilee held her breath. Kate Bennet was accessing the file. As in right now. She was the mole. She really was th…

"Lee! Call the others and get here. NOW!"

Jubilee nearly jumped off her seat and quickly erased the ghost user. It wasn't 2 pm yet, so if Old Ray was hollering for her, it meant something was rotten somewhere. She walked up to the meeting room while texting Amy, Elton and Tommy.

"… a four-eye geek," Jake was saying. "Short and heavy-built. But she's got more brains than Linton Barrett and Marsha Hillam put together."

"Oh, really?" Ray-man was grunting as Jubilee slid into the room.

"Well… she cares. For Barrett and Hillam, these people are just numbers. They don't mean anything to them. But Bennet cares."

Jubilee straightened up. Bennet?

"She thinks, Raymond. She looks at the reasons for the police request, she looks at the person's file, hunts up all other related files, makes connections… Hillam and Barrett send me about ten cases a day, no connections made, nothing. Most cases shouldn't even get to my hands; I'm just wasting time with them. Bennet sends me three or four and calls me up to point out urgent ones, to tell me why she thinks they're urgent. She is invested in helping people."

Jubilee frowned at that. If Jake was talking about Kate Bennet… it didn't make sense. Why would a mole looking for victims care about helping these people? And, worse, why call people's attention with a too-good-to-be-true job performance?

"Or she's invested in getting your job."

Jubilee blanched. How stupid could she be? It was obvious! Kate Bennet wanted to make it to squad analyst in order to have access to genetic make-up information.

"Good for her," Jake smirked. "Because I think she'd be perfect for the role. And I might as well tell you now before you hear it elsewhere: I talked to Simmons yesterday… about getting each squad their own analyst. He liked the idea."

Wait, the SPAD head manager liked the idea? He was going to promote the mole to squad analyst? Oh, f…

"It's not going to happen." For once she hoped Ray-man was right.

"Well, no, not right now. Simmons did say this wasn't the best time for that. But he also said he might have a word with Nicolas Wilkins so he can start spotting a replacement for Bennet. That maybe by Fall I could have Bennet as an assistant. It's the best he can do for now."

Ray-man shrugged. "Maybe you'd just be better off if you pressured Hillam and Barrett to do their jobs right. It seems to me you've got your hands full because of _them_."

Amy entered the room, silently as ever. Tommy and Elton could be heard getting closer. Tommy was telling a football joke, it sounded like.

"And these ones are asking for a bit of pressure too," he turned to Jubilee. "Didn't I tell you to get your team here ASAP? Where were they? On the other side of town?"

Jubilee scoffed but shut her yap. She knew better than to give excuses by now: if anyone in her team messed up, she was the one who had to put up with the whipping in their place. Justified or not. Anyway, Raymond Chase sounded like he was in a foul mood right about now, which meant he'd say folks were late unless they could teleport themselves in the moment he called for them. Let it go. A better approach was to find out why he was in a bad mood.

"Get going, Jake." Old Ray said the moment Elton and Tommy reached the meeting room. "And close that door, the two of you. You're late! People can die when you're late, and don't you forget that. If this woman dies, it's on your heads, get it? And I'll make damn sure you won't ever forget her."

Jake cleared his throat and distributed copies of a file.

"Michelle Olsen has gone missing. She is a mutant with healing powers. We have reasons to believe this man, Arthur Townsend, is involved. I have called the Oregon police and they believe we're better suited to deal with the case, since mutants are involved. I have also contacted the Initiative but they aren't interested because her powers are not offensive and she has no history of violence or aggression."

"We're going to Oregon?" Tommy asked, but Old Ray didn't even bother to look at him.

"I'll go through the details with you in a moment. Right now, we've got reasons to believe her life is endangered so, Lee, call the X-Men and see if they have a jet available to fly us there. They're faster than any other option." Jubilee nodded and dialed immediately. "If they can dispense a feral to track this guy down, so much the better. Especially if it's the doctor one. The woman may need medical assistance when we get there and regular doctors don't pay enough attention to folks with healing factors."

Jubilee nodded. It probably also helped that Logan and Ray-man didn't see eye to eye. Kitty's voice rang on the other side and she immediately asked for the jet.

"And is the Beast around?"

Half her mind was not with the missing Michelle though. She needed to warn Rogue and Gambit. After over a month of relaxation, they might have their guard down.

"Yes. Do you need him to tag along?"

"Yeah," Jake was leaving the room now and she followed him out, despite Ray-man's annoyed frown. "What about Wolverine?"

"He's out and about," Kitty said. "In Japan, last I heard."

Drats. She needed someone who… Wolvie had mentioned Laura, when Jubilee had revealed the mole's existence to him. He had said Laura could give her a hand if he wasn't around. He had even given Jubilee her phone number. It would have to do.

"Lee! Hurry that up and get back here."

Jubilee looked back at Ray, standing at the meeting room door, and signalled a 'ok, ok'.

"When can you get here?"

"Ten, fifteen minutes."

Jubilee got to her desk and rummaged inside her bag. She kept her back to the meeting room to make sure Ray couldn't notice her doings. She switched off the phone and found the burner she had to contact Rogue. She didn't have any time to call just yet so she texted a quick 'attention'. It would have to do for now. Then she went back.

"Beast will have the jet here in ten, fifteen minutes," she informed. "And we should take about an hour and a half to get to Portland."

* * *

"Yes, I'll talk to her, Mr. Simmons," Nicolas Wilkins said, a wide smile to help his voice sound friendlier on the other side of the line. "I'll let you know what she says."

The moment the call ended, though, the smile was equally gone. Bennet was his greatest asset, in more ways than one. Linton Barrett and Marsha Hillam were mediocre to say the least. The technicians were little better than bored mules. Bennet, on the other hand… where the hell was he going to get a replacement for her? Pick one of the technicians to promote, like Barnaby Simmons had said? There were over fifty people registering police reports into the database; one had to fit the bill. Maybe. But it was a damn waste of time and he had no garantees whether he'd find someone as appropriate.

Nicolas took a deep breath and looked at the photo of his family, which he kept on the desk. A man is only as strong as the love his family gives him, he always said, and life had proved that belief right, difficulty after difficulty. He'd manage. He always did.

He got up and went to the door. "Bennet, could you come here for a moment once you finish that request?"

She seemed startled. She always seemed startled when people talked to her, as if she was surprised anyone had even seen her.

Wilkins sat back and started thinking about the possibilities. There wasn't really much he could do… He'd have to play his hand and hope for the best.

"Sir?"

The scaredy cat stopped at the entrance and he had to smile encouragingly for her to come in, close the door, take a seat. She would never make it as a squad analyst, assistant or not. Such a job required greater assertivity and social skills. Sometimes he wondered how the young woman had managed to join the FBI at all.

"Is there something wrong, Mr. Wilkins?"

He took a deep breath and looked her straight in the eyes. "I am afraid so. Do you mind if I call you Kate?"

She shook her head, barely breathing, her face very pale.

"I don't think the department realises what a smart, efficient young woman you are, Kate. But I do. You are dedicated, competent, intelligent…"

The young woman blinked, flattered but suspicious.

"I understand you take your job seriously, that you care about the people whose lives may be in danger. I understand that you're eager to help and so you contact Jake Butterworth regularly to make sure he is aware of the most urgent cases."

She frowned, probably trying to understand what he was driving at.

"But I'm afraid Mr. Butterworth doesn't see it that way. He believes you're after his position and he obviously confused your eagerness to help with…uh… an attempt to show yourself superior to him."

The woman was crushed. For a moment, Nicolas thought she might start crying so he took a deep breath, cleared his throat and got up, walking around the room until he was standing behind her.

"He knows people," he said in a mournful tone. "I will protect you to the best of my ability, you can rest assured. No one will touch you. But, _please_ , do not contact him for any reason. If you must contact Butterworth, let me know and I will talk to him. That way he can't point anything at you."

Bennet nodded nervously.

"You're my best worker, Kate, and I treasure you greatly. I do not want to see your career destroyed because that fool has a big ego."

A new nod, even more nervous.

Wilkins rested a comforting hand on her shoulder, carefully.

"Thank you."

He remained like that for some time as the woman pulled herself together. Then he cautiously spoke before she could do so.

"I know this was a blow to you, Kate. You're hard-working and you did not deserve such a thing. I will inform your colleagues you had a… uh… a family situation and had to leave early. Would that be ok?"

She nodded weakly but then sniffed and shook her head.

"I… There is an urgent police request…"

"That is not important, Kate. I can take a look at it myself. I'd much rather you went home and relaxed."

"Okay," she meowed.

As she made her way to her work station, Wilkins had the distinct impression she would answer a few more requests before leaving. She was a stubborn one. Well, back to business. He picked the phone and dialed Simmons's number. Kate was sitting still, just looking at the screen. Hands closed into tight fists.

"Simmons."

"It's me again. I'm afraid I have bad news. I've just talked to Bennet and… she's not interested. She said she doesn't want to move to New York, which she would have to, right? And she also doesn't want to deal with the squads. She's a… a bit of a computer geek, if I may say so. Very sweet, very shy. She barely talks to anyone and she can't stand her ground to save her life. I can tell you she was so shocked with the idea of having to deal with people on a regular basis she was almost crying."

There was an annoyed sigh on the other side of the line and he pressed on.

"She's a wonderful girl, don't get me wrong; incredibly smart and dedicated… but I really think she's better off dealing with computers and data. People make her a nervous wreck."

"Well, if that's the way things are…"

"Yeah, I'm afraid so. Was Butterworth really set on her? Because I've got other people I could choose as candidates, you know? They'll all have to be trained to be his assistants, one way or the other."

"No, he wanted her. Says she's a great analyst and her skills are going to waste over there."

"Right. Sorry to hear that."

"I won't hold you any longer, Wilkins. Have a good weekend, by the way."

Nicolas sat back and considered that last information. If Butterworth had been set on an assistant, he wouldn't need to worry any longer; as it was… he'd just have to make sure the man wouldn't try to steal Bennet away.

* * *

If you've enjoyed the chapter, please leave a review. Just let me know what you liked and disliked so I can keep improving my writing skills. Thank you.


	18. Down Time

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters except my characters. Which are quite a few this time around. Let's try it this way: I don't own any Marvel characters that happen to show up in the upcoming chapters and which I'm sure you'll recognise without any need to name long lists.

* * *

 _Note: Muir Beach is a real place, 20 minutes North of San Francisco. Look it up and I'm sure you'll agree it's the cosiest little spot for a relaxing holiday. There is also a YMCA in the small town, but I replaced it with an independent Sports Association which I named Sea Haven. I didn't do a very in-depth research so I can only hope to be true to the beautiful town and Inn. All people mentioned are fictional._

* * *

 **18\. Down Time**

Anna came out of the bathroom, feeling her body refreshened from the shower. The sun was slipping smoothly towards the horizon, inundating the room with its lazy, golden light. Sitting on the bed, Gambit seemed to be glowing and Anna couldn't hold back a slight grimace over all the brightness.

"Ya sure ya want me ta go?"

She was so not in the mood for this!

"Ah've told ya a thousand times, Remy. Just go an' leave me be!"

Yet the concern and uneasiness on his face softened her irritation. She forced a smile. A weak one.

"Ah just need ta sleep this off, an' there's no point fer the both of us ta miss out on Karyn's birthday party."

He still didn't look convinced. And why didn't he want to go? It was so out of character for him, to want to bail out of a party. The thought was uncalled for: that some woman was hitting on him and he didn't want to be alone around said woman. But who? Everyone hailed Sue Ann and Pierre Garrarde as the biggest lovey-dovey couple under the sky. She grunted at herself for thinking that.

"Ya want me ta get ya anythin'? Painkillers? Water? A bl…"

God! Even his voice was starting to get to her.

"Just shush an' go. Please, Remy. Go."

Teach her to spend the whole day out on the beach without a hat. And it wasn't that the headache was particularly terrible; it was more as if her brain had become a piece of iron. A heavy one that clattered everytime she moved her head. The light didn't help either, or sounds.

"I'll close de shutters," he whispered.

"Thanks, sugar," she said, worming her way into the sheets.

She didn't fall asleep. Her problem was a headache, not sleepiness. Anna was perfectly aware of Gambit closing the front door and leaving in the jeep. She was aware of the birds chattering about and of the group of boisterous kids ridind their bikes along Sunset Way. Of the neighbours coming in. Or going out. She was aware of the steady murmur of the breaking waves. Leisurely. Indolent. Soothing.

When the cell phone started ringing, Anna nearly jumped in the bed and her iron-like brain clattered painfully. God, maybe she should have taken something.

"What!"

"Rogue, are you ok?" Jubilee? And Anna was suddenly aware it was dark. Very much dark. " 'Cause you seriously don't sound ok."

"Uh… yeah, Ah'm fine. Headache."

What time was it? She could have sworn Remy hadn't left more than half an hour ago.

"Oh, you must have been sleeping," the girl said on the other side of the line. "Sorry I woke you up. Listen: did you guys see my text?"

"What text?"

Ten pm. Remy would be back soon, she guessed.

"Nevermind that now. I just want you to know that the mole checked your files today, at lunch time." Alertness toned down the headache somewhat. "Keep your eyes open from now on because they're going to send agents to take you two out any time now."

Anna frowned. "But… don't ya know who the mole is? Ain't ya takin' him down?"

"Her. It's a she. And yes, I'm taking her down, obviously. Only I'm in Oregon, and she's in D.C., which, as you can imagine, makes it just a bit more difficult. Anyway, I don't want you to think I'm not into this, okay? It's just that a woman got kidnapped and we know who did it but we have no idea where he took her. And this guy who took her, he's the worst type of asshole and he's probably going to hurt her _bad_ before he kills her so… that's my priority right now."

Yes, obviously. A pulse of pain pierced through her temples and she shut her eyes.

"Can't you ask Logan to help track this guy down?"

"He's in Japan. Busy, busy, as usual. But it's ok, I got Hank to help out. It'll be ok. Anyway, I wanted to tell you guys that I talked to Laura and she's heading to D.C. to check out our Miss Mole."

Laura? As in Laura Kinney, X-23?

"Ah thought ya said no one else knew 'bout the mole?"

"Yeah, well… Wolvie kind of got me to confess. But he promised not to breathe a word of it to _any_ one else. He said to call him if I needed anything and that, if he wasn't around, to call Laura. She'd do whatever I needed, no questions asked. And since I need someone to keep an eye on the mole while I find the missing woman… Some things, you just can't do all on your own, can you?"

Anna sighed. No, some things have to be done in a team.

"Okay, sugar, don't worry. We got things covered on our end; ya keep things covered on yer end. Go on. Find that missin' woman."

Anna set the phone on the night stand and went over to the window. The stars were incredibly clear in the sky. They always were, out here in Muir Beach. She and Remy had spent quite a few nights just stargazing, whether on the beach or on the balcony of their house. It was so very peaceful. Another pulse of pain shot through her temples. Maybe she should have taken a tablet after all; but that meant asking Remy to run to the nearest pharmacy and it really wasn't worth it. She'd get a nice cup of relaxing tea and get some sleep. She'd be as good as new in the morning. And she'd wear a hat from now on.

* * *

There were no stars to be seen. Too much light pollution. It didn't bother Laura, though, the drowned away stars. The only use they had were for orienteering in the wilderness, and though one could claim a big city to be a type of wilderness, it wasn't one that required stars to navigate.

Crouching on the roof of Greenberg Hall, Laura observed Tisch Hospital, opposite the Hall. The claws of her right hand slid out silently and caressed her left wrist. In the last two years, that Hospital had represented her future. It had been Sooraya who had convinced her, then Logan and Cecily had applauded the idea and she…

It was irrational, the idea that her mother could have been saved. Laura remembered that night perfectly: Sarah Kinney had been too damaged. Even if there had been a team of surgeons in a surgery room around the corner, even then it would have been too late. X-23 was deadly. And yet, Laura sometimes dreamed about it. That, if she had had medical skills at the time, maybe, just maybe, she could have…

The claws broke the skin and blood flooded softly out.

Sooraya had gone to Afghanistan decided to fight for her people. But she had been torn about her initial decision of becoming a soldier. There was too much violence, too much pain, too much blood. Of course soldiers were needed to protect the village but teachers and doctors were just as necessary. And Allah, Allah did not appreciate war and bloodshed. Therefore, if she must shed blood to protect her loved ones, then she must balance it and learn how to save lives. Be a doctor. So she had returned to the United States.

"You too," she had told Laura, "you should atone for all the bloodshed. Even if it was not your decision, even if it is in order to protect… to kill people in order to save people is still bloodshed. You should atone for it somehow."

That night she had dreamt she had saved Sarah Kinney. It was the first time ever she dreamt of such a thing and, waking up, she found herself mostly at peace. The following morning she'd mentioned it to Logan. Then she'd mentioned it to Cecily. And before she knew it, she was Sooraya's roommate at Greenberg Hall.

Laura clenched her fist, trying to stop the urge to deepen the wound. The last two years had been difficult. All her life, she had associated difficulty with pain. Entering Med School had taught her a different form of difficulty: boredom. Med School was boring. Very, very boring. Once upon a time, anything below perfection had been unthinkable. Even absolute perfection could still carry punishment. But here, the grade was simply Pass or Fail, so having less than excellent grades meant nothing. Nothing at all. And as for learning… she knew the human body as well as most of the teachers, if not better. One must know the body if one wants to understand the most efficient methods of killing or torture it. No challenge.

Her fist relaxed as the claw sunk almost to the bone.

It was just a means to the end, anyway. Her objective was to learn to save lives, therefore she must endure the path to get there. She knew well that was how life worked. After all, her childhood had been one long, painful mean to the end she was now. Deadly.

Laura sighed and removed the claw from the wound, allowing it to start healing.

Things had gone wrong a month ago. Logan had apologised for the distraction, but she had the month of June free, didn't she? Outside preparing for the next year, yes. Sooraya was helping out at a shelter for battered wives, assisting a local doctor and earning experience. Laura had told her it was a dangerous place of town and had insisted in accompanying her. It wasn't really dangerous, not unless you left the shelter and wandered, alone, through half empty alleys. Well, at least in the first few days that had been dangerous. Now it was just uneventful.

In late May, Logan had told her Jubilee might need help. That if he wasn't around, would she mind offering a helping hand. She didn't mind, obviously. But, twenty-four hours later, she'd been honestly surprised by the apprehension that had taken hold of her: what if Jubilee turned out not to need help? Or what if Logan was around to offer the helping hand?

The wound was nearly healed when Laura plunged the claw again, twisting it slightly before once more removing it from the open wound.

Laura hadn't accompanied Sooraya to the shelter for nearly three weeks now. Of course she'd hunted the area for unlikely protection services first. Every predator in and outside the neighbourhood knew, without the shadow of a doubt, that no harm could ever approach the veiled girl. Even if Sooraya's mutant power did make her a force of destruction.

Waiting for Jubilee's eventual cry for help, Laura had turned to nightclubs. There were men on the hunt there. And some women too. Laura would sink into the shadows, studying predators and preys before coming in to protect the helpless and attack the danger. She always slept better afterwards, always focused better on the dull activities of a medical student, always felt more alert. When Jubilee's phone call had finally arrived, Laura had been so glad she had… she had come to her senses, so to speak.

Laura _was_ going to finish this medical course. Of that much she was certain. It would please Sooraya; it would please Logan; it would please Cecily. And it would improve her skills, deadly though they may already be. But after she was a doctor, Laura would join Sooraya in Afghanistan. There was plenty of action there. And if it got boring, she would just… go somewhere else. Find someone who needed her for a new mission. And the mere idea of a fight invigorated her. She just needed a bit more patience.

Laura smiled at the red welt where she had cut herself a moment ago.

In the meantime, she would continue going out to clubs. And maybe Jubilee would need a helping hand again. Of course she would have to focus more on her course once the training period and the rotations started, but, unless the third year turned out much more challenging, she'd still have time to roam eventful places in town. Not regularly, though. Sooraya wouldn't approve of her… hmm… relaxation methods. And she suspected neither would Logan.

The smile faded and she slid the blade one last time through her arm.

Why had she locked herself into this project of becoming a doctor, Laura wondered. In the distance, an ambulance sped noisily towards a hospital, getting closer every second. Her plane to Washington D.C. would leave in three or four hours.

Laura returned to her room silently. Sooraya was asleep. Laura never left till the girl was fast asleep, and she rarely returned to find her worriedly awake.

She grabbed her backpack, the one she always kept ready under her bed. Clothes, fake documents, no weapons. She was weapon enough. She put the backpack on and looked back at her slumbering friend.

If Sooraya hadn't convinced her to atone for her killings… if she hadn't given Laura that dream where she did manage to save Sarah.

Dreams. What are dreams anyway?

* * *

If you've enjoyed the chapter, please leave a review. Just let me know what you liked and disliked so I can keep improving my writing skills. Thank you.


	19. Going Nowhere

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters except my characters. Which are quite a few this time around. Let's try it this way: I don't own any Marvel characters that happen to show up in the upcoming chapters and which I'm sure you'll recognise without any need to name long lists.

* * *

 _Note: Muir Beach is a real place, 20 minutes North of San Francisco. Pelican Inn is also a real place. Look it up and I'm sure you'll agree it's the cosiest little spot for a relaxing holiday (or a romantic one: Pelican Inn is perfect for that!). There is also a YMCA in the small town, but I replaced it with an independent Sports Association which I named Sea Haven. I didn't do a very in-depth research so I can only hope to be true to the beautiful town and Inn. All people mentioned are fictional, including the workers at the Inn (which I, unfortunately, am not likely to visit). Oh, and I am exaggerating the surfing conditions a bit, just as I'm making up the Inn's take-away service._

* * *

 **19\. Going Nowhere**

Anna felt as if she'd been hit by the Hulk. Not that she was actually in pain, but every muscle felt sore. So much so, she almost wondered if the headache of the previous day had been a sign of a cold or the flu, rather than too much sun. Well, at least she wasn't sensitive to light anymore.

She looked at the alarm clock – 11.49 am – and headed to the bathroom, for a refreshing shower. She had no idea where Remy had gone, though she guessed he must be out surfing. He enjoyed going out into the waves early in the morning, despite the cold and the fog. Anna would tease him, saying he needed all the practice he could get. He had arrived from Karyn's birthday party shortly after Jubilee's phone call, so he might also be out looking for fresh arrivals. If that was the case, he'd have gone to Pelican Inn, just outside the small town, and would probably get some take-away for their Saturday lunch.

Anna put on a light dress and went out onto the balcony. It was a beautiful day. She probably wouldn't go to Sea Haven for a helping hand today. She still felt like she was the one needing that helping hand, rather than be the one giving it. With a sigh, she sat down on a beach chair and tried to relax. The moment she closed her eyes, though, she heard Remy's bike pull in.

She grunted herself onto her feet and went to the hall, dusting off her best smile.

"Hey, sugar. What have ya been up to?"

He smiled at her and closed the door, a bag in his hand. Yupe, he'd been to Pelican Inn.

"Ya gonna be proud o'me," he embraced her waist and kissed her deeply. "Feelin' better?"

Putting her arms around his neck, she downplayed her sore muscles to herself. "Feelin' curious. Why am Ah gonna be proud of ya?"

"Remy, he got a job."

Anna was taken aback. Job? He kissed her again and moved on to the kitchen.

"Uncroyable, non? D'ya remember dat Pelican Inn, dey was advertisin' fer a waiter or waitress? Well, dey thought Pierre is perfect fer de job. I start tomorrow."

Naturally, she could see why he'd done that: whether the agents coming after them stayed at the Inn or rented a beach house, they'd always end up going to the Inn's restaurant. What was unnatural was the sudden aggravation she felt. She couldn't even understand why.

"What'll be yer schedule?"

She trailed him to the kitchen, feeling her legs heavy while she tried to disguise the lack of enthusiasm.

"I'll be doin' lunch an' dinner, only. Dey don't need no help wi'breakfasts fer now. Dat means I work from 11am to 3.30pm, and again from 5pm till 10pm."

"Well, then," and she forced herself to smile, to reward his initiative. "If ya gonna be tradin' my company at lunch an' dinner fer a bunch o'tippin' strangers, Ah guess Ah'm gonna have ta demand more breakfasts in bed."

He laughed as he took out a couple of plates. "Remy, he's only too glad t'be o'service."

They'd been spending their days together at Sea Haven, but now they would stay away from each other for much longer. She couldn't hold back the sigh as she sat at the table, the garlicky smell of the mussels both pleasant and uninviting.

"Ya wanna go somewhere dis afternoon ta enjoy my last day o' freedom?"

"Wherever ya wanna go," she smiled, hoping it was neither too far nor too busy.

Remy got a bottle of white wine from the fridge and popped the cap open.

"Dere been no new arrivals yet," he said, pouring a generous amount into her glass.

"Hey, are ya tryin' ta get me drunk? Ya know, if Ah get tipsy, Ah won't feel like goin' nowhere."

He laughed, eyeing her hungrily. "Not even t'de bed upstairs?"

"Nope, not even upstairs," she teased.

"Bien, Remy will make do wi'de sofa, den."

* * *

Laura analysed the house as best she could through the windows. The binoculars allowed that analysis to be rather detailed, but it didn't make up for an on-the-spot examination. Unfortunately, Laura was starting to realise it was not going to happen. Not that Saturday, at least.

Kate Bennet had gotten up at ten and had had a mug of coffee. Then she'd done some light cleaning. At midday, she had put a pizza in the oven (a Hawaiian, by the smell of it) and had sat down to eat while reading a book. Pocket-size. Flowery cover. Laura couldn't make out the title though.

After lunch, she had spread a good amount of files and documents on the round dining table and was now studying them while working at the computer. The table wasn't that big, so the sheets of paper were piled over each other. Laura could tell some of the documents were information on people, and the rest were reports of some sort, with different types of graphs and the occasional US map. It was all related to mutants and former mutants, that much was clear from the snippets she managed to read through the binoculars.

Sitting at the computer, her face and the back of her laptop towards the window, the woman seemed absolutely focused. At 7.26, she made a phone call. At 7.49, three pizzas were delivered at her door. Judging from the Hawaiian pizza the woman had finished at lunch, which had been only half, Laura was certain these pizzas were supposed to last through the weekend.

If Jubilee hadn't asked her to avoid the slightest chance of discovery, Laura would consider breaking in during the night. Unfortunately, if Kate Bennet was not going to leave the house, the only other option to consider was waiting for Monday. Once she left for work, Laura could safely get in.

Well, perhaps she might have interesting visits. Laura got her phone and texted Jubilee's burner.

When she looked back through the binoculars, the woman was typing while munching on a slice. Laura sighed. No one would be going anywhere this weekend.

* * *

Jubilee could have screamed as she closed the door of her hotel room. This was going nowhere! Her team had scoured every person that blasted asshole could know in and out of Oregon through the weekend. Every place he had as much as driven through. Nothing. It was as if he'd disappeared from the face of the earth!

The local police knew the woman was a mutant and weren't willing to get in the middle of that fray. Let mutants deal with mutants, was their motto. It didn't help, obviously. But the ugly truth was that, even if the police were helping, they'd all still be in the same swamp of nothingness.

Jubilee flopped onto the bed and closed her eyes taking a deep breath. Then she got up and got her burner phone, to re-read the message Laura had sent her the day before.

"target does not leave the house. behaviour is confirmed suspicious: is investigating mutants and former mutants. no phone messages, no visits. there could be emails. will break in on monday when she leaves to work."

Jubilee sighed. Then she called Sofía, her energy oozing away with every bip.

"Yes," her colleague's voice came through suddenly.

"Please, tell me you got good news for me."

"Well, I've got news," Sofía said from the other side. "You tell me if they're good. Kate Bennet's aunt is married to Brandon Langley, who has been closely associated to several senators for at least two decades. And, according to Cerebro, he was also a part of the original Friends of Humanity, before Graydon Creed was killed."

That group was long gone, but perhaps this Langley was part of an offshoot. After all, both Church of Humanity and Humanity's Last Stand were offshoots. So Langley was in a… let's call it 'Humanity Group', and he had gotten his niece to infiltrate SPAD to feed them targets. It made sense.

"Jubes, you're there?"

"Yeah, I'm just thinking. Bennet is feeding her uncle targets."

"So you think the mole is working for the Friends of Humanity."

Jubilee lay back and closed her eyes.

"Either that or an offshoot. It doesn't matter, either way. Laura hasn't said anything else since yesterday so I guess Bennet is still holed up in her house. I'll tell her to look for any references to Langley when she breaks in. Brandon Langley, right?"

At least one investigation was going somewhere.

"Yeah. I'll investigate him a bit more too. I got to go now."

"Good luck! Bye."

Jubilee let the phone fall onto her stomach and just stayed there, lying on the bed, eyes closed.

Michelle, Michelle. Where could she be? And Townsend!

They had gone through all of his known connections. Even mere acquaintances! Nothing. His financials weren't giving hints to absolutely anything either. Where could the guy go to that didn't leave any type of footprint? The same answer kept popping up inside her head: the woods. If you want to go off the grid, you go to the woods. She blamed Logan for her brain's obsessive suggestion. The problem was that Townsend was no wood's guy. He wasn't a hunter, had never owned a gun, never been camping, never lived outside the suburbs. He wouldn't even know how to… how to pee without a proper toilet.

Damn it! Poor Michelle could be dead by now!

But where would you keep a woman, kidnapped, in a town where you knew no one? Abandoned warehouses or other buildings? That would work if he knew the neighbourhoods, if he knew whether addicts or homeless folks were using the places, because, otherwise, someone was bound to see something and word would eventually get out. Too risky. If he were to head to the woods, all he'd need was a cabin in a far-off area. There would be nearly zilch chances of someone knocking on his door. If Townsend had half a brain, that's where he'd go.

Where would he find the perfect cabin, though? Her team had gone through his computers and emails; the guy had never searched for remote places.

With a frustrated grunt, Jubilee got up and stashed the burner phone away. Then she started pacing the room, trying to think of… _something_! Damn it! She punched the mattress and breathed out her anger. She was going nowhere with this and the woman was going to die because of it. Because of her ineptitude.

She remembered Ray telling her to get some sleep. Tired brains don't have bright ideas.

"Yeah, I should get some sleep."

Even if it felt like she was abandoning Michelle to her fate?

"Tired brains don't save people," she told herself and forced herself to go to bed.

Maybe she could… I don't know! Dream with the blasted asshole's hiding hole.

Maybe.

* * *

If you've enjoyed the chapter, please leave a review. Just let me know what you liked and disliked so I can keep improving my writing skills. Thank you.


	20. Discoveries

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters except my characters. Which are quite a few this time around. Let's try it this way: I don't own any Marvel characters that happen to show up in the upcoming chapters and which I'm sure you'll recognise without any need to name long lists.

* * *

 _Note: Muir Beach is a real place, 20 minutes North of San Francisco. Pelican Inn is also a real place. Look it up and I'm sure you'll agree it's the cosiest little spot for a relaxing holiday (or a romantic one: Pelican Inn is perfect for that!). There is also a YMCA in the small town, but I replaced it with an independent Sports Association which I named Sea Haven. I didn't do a very in-depth research so I can only hope to be true to the beautiful town and Inn. All people mentioned are fictional, including the workers at the Inn (which I, unfortunately, am not likely to visit). Oh, and I am exaggerating the surfing conditions a bit._

* * *

 **20\. Discoveries**

Laura jogged up to the building door, the baggy sweater covering her shape, the hood hiding her face, and effortlessly picked the lock. Once inside, she was careful to avoid any inhabitant as she headed for Bennet's floor and door. Another easy to pick lock. People really should protect themselves better.

Inside the house, she was able to confirm her previous conclusions: Kate Bennet was an organised person. Everything was clean, no sign of dust or untidiness, but not obsessively so. She headed to the large cupboard in the living room and tried to open the doors. Locked. These weren't as easy to pick, but they weren't that big a challenge either. Amateurish, she thought.

Inside the cupboard was all the proof Laura could wish for. Folders and folders of individuals either signalled as mutants or former mutants. Very often, the folders included the information they were deceased. She took photos of a few dozen files, so Jubilee could later check how these people had been killed, and then turned her attention to the maps and graphics. The maps focused on the USA territory, to the exception of the islands and Alaska. They had colours with captions that referred to all sorts of statistics: number of mutants and former mutants that were known, were alive, had been attacked, were villains, were simple low-life criminals, … all sorts. There were also some maps referring to crime statistics, whether mutants were involved or not. The graphs were more of the same. Laura couldn't immediately see how these could interest a group targeting former mutants, but perhaps it helped them adjust the parameters they used to choose their victims, or the best method of killing them. She then looked through the papers looking for the name Langley. Nothing. So she took some more photos and carefully closed the cupboard, meticulously erasing every sign of her visit.

Before she left though, Laura explored the rest of the house. There was only a photo in the place, half hidden behind a jewellery box that held a single pair of pearl earrings. It had been taken when Bennet had finished her FBI training and included whom she thought could be Bennet's mother.

Following a sudden thought, Laura checked the wardrobe. There were only suits and similar clothes, in a quiet palette of dark and light neutral colours. There wasn't a single skirt, but there was a dress. Laura couldn't tell how fashionable or unfashionable the item was, but it was obvious its owner was eager to hide large portions of her body under a lot of fabric. There were also a few pairs of shoes, pratical things with almost no heel.

Laura looked around her. She would have liked to put her hands on the woman's laptop, but she had taken it with her. Well, that was it.

She left as she had come in, unnoticed. Once she was back on her perch, with her bag and her binoculars, Laura sat down and got her phone out.

"have photos," she texted both Jubilee and Sofía, since she knew Jubilee had her hands full with a case. "will send them by email and will continue surveillance until new orders"

* * *

Remy was sitting on his surfing board, enjoying the peace and quiet. The ocean was perfect, that morning: great swells even if they weren't very big. Perfect for his level. And the weather was perfect too, with only a few random clouds and very little mist. One of the warmest, sunniest summers in the last years, the locals kept saying; and definitely the best morning weather in centuries.

He enjoyed coming out, shortly after the sunrise, to enjoy some alone time. The waves were good, if not perfect, and both town and beach were small, which meant peace and quiet even at the height of the tourist season. On top of it, the early mornings were often cloudy and misty, sometimes foggy, which meant it was safe enough to go into the water without the worry of losing sight of the land. Perfect for some alone time.

When Jubilee had first mentioned the mole and that she needed their help, Gambit had immediately jumped at the idea of excitement. He loved Anna Marie, no doubt about it, but he had been getting bored with nothing to do while she slaved her way through the essay. Muir Beach hadn't been exciting, not in the least, and especially not in that first month, but it had been surprisingly fun. He had even enjoyed helping around the Sea Haven association. And now… he couldn't stop thinking that, next summer, they could come back. At least for a week.

Ah, next summer! It would be much easier to convince Anna to wear inhibitors rather than having them implanted for their next vacation. He'd wear them too, obviously. At least part of the time. Another year, and she would probably stop noticing whether he was wearing the inhibitors or not. She really just needed to see it was no big deal, using power inhibitors to make her life easier and more pleasant. That's what all technology is for anyway, right?

He really couldn't wait for next summer. He was sure that, by the time next summer was over, Anna'd be so used to wearing the inhibitors as jewellery, she'd start wearing them regularly. As in nightly. At least. He'd make sure she'd have a bag worth of earrings and necklaces and bracelets, even rings. All of them hiding power inhibitors.

It was going to be great! Why hadn't he thought of it sooner? Ah, the thought of being able to kiss his Anna whenever he wished made him smile. Just one more vacation, and he'd have created his own paradise on Earth.

The idea was thrilling and yet made him nervous. Almost as if it might be too good to be true. As if maybe he didn't deserve to live the happiness he was so carefully building for himself. But what the hell! He was not getting any younger and he had suffered enough for all his stupid mistakes, for all his crimes. He shook his head at the thought of Sinister, the Marauders, Paris… No, he had suffered enough for it all. He had done enough penance. He breathed out and insisted with himself: he _had_ done enough penance. Now it was time to move on. Now…

Now it was time to go back to the house. The sun was getting higher in the sky, scattering away the remnant fog of that morning, so people would start filling the beach soon and he, he had to get back to the inn and focus on identifying the agents. Maybe he should check the rooms of the potential ones and go through their luggage for incriminating evidence. But, right now, he just wanted to check on Anna before starting work.

Anna had been listless all weekend, after getting that headache from too much sun exposure. Remy had asked her to stay at home on Monday, so she could fully recover, but she had gone to Sea Haven all the same. Obviously, after an entire day of helping prepare snacks and supervising the energetic kids' activities, she had ended the day exhausted… and with another headache, despite the bandana and hat she'd worn all day. So today she had agreed to relax in the morning and only help out in the afternoon. Remy, though, didn't think it was enough. Not that he was going to say anything; Anna had become seriously miffed the last time he had insisted on her staying in the house.

When Remy started paddling towards the beach, ready to catch one last wave on his way out, he noticed the new couple.

They had arrived the day before, by lunch time. Naturally, he had immediately been on the alert, but the fact was that the Pelican Inn was a romantic get away and a week didn't go by without a couple checking in and a couple checking out. Still, he should consider going through their things, make sure they were there for romantic reasons.

Remy failed the wave, his attention being more on the couple making out on the towel. As he picked up the board and headed for his own towel, the guy, a young man with short ash-blond hair, kissed the woman one last time and reached for his own surfing board. The woman, her face hidden under a wide straw hat, had very long dark brown hair, its waves very close to being curls. She grabbed a handful of the coarse sand and threw it at him, giggling.

The guy laughed and turned resolutely to the ocean. As he took a couple of steps, coming closer to Remy's towel, he nodded with a warm smile.

"G'morning. Are the waves good today?"

"Good enough," Remy answered.

And the guy carried on, with another nod for Remy and a long glance backwards towards the woman.

Remy picked the towel and the board and started walking away. The woman was holding a Norah Roberts romance, but her face, he could see it now as he crossed the sand expanse, was smiling at the guy, who had just started paddling.

The casual greet-and-move-on was a perfect approach to engage a wary target. The couple was supposed to stay for two weeks, he had found out, which meant that they would have plenty of time to connect with their targets, getting to know them, and trying to kill them. If Remy was an agent, that was how he'd go about it.

Unfortunately, Remy had also found out that two other couples were set to check in during the week. One should be checking in in another hour or two, the other should arrive tomorrow evening, Wednesday. The couple who'd arrived the day before, on Monday, could turn out to be just a nice couple. For now, there was no way of knowing.

Remy climbed the wooden stairs up the hill, zigzagging through the beach houses and their fenced yards. Then he hurried along the road till the house.

"Anna," he called out as he closed the door.

The French-window to the wide balcony was open, so he guessed she was out there. Maybe hadn't even heard him. He hurried to the balcony and, true to his guess, Anna was lying on a beach chair and hadn't heard him, though the reason was that she was sleeping.

He waited for a moment, enjoying the view. She was wearing a light summer dress and a slight breeze ruffled the hem, making it hover over her well toned legs for a few moments before landing again. She was wearing a wide brim hat, too, even though the balcony was still in the morning shadow of the house.

"Ma chere," he called softly, allowing his fingers to caress her naked arm. "Anna."

She snapped awake suddenly, with a 'oh, did I fall asleep'.

"It's early," he said, sitting sideways on a lounge chair nearby. "How d'ya feel today?"

Anna stretched sleepily. "Lazy," she groaned. "Ah don't feel like movin' a muscle."

He pulled the hat off her head and put it on himself, which had her laughing, calling him silly. She looked so happy, even as she saw his dripping hair and warned him, with the fakest sternness ever, not to get her hat wet. If time could stand still…

"Hey," she called lethargically when he got up abruptly. "Ya goin' off ta work already?"

He shook his head with a 'non' while pulling the lounge chair closer, then he lay down on his side, the better to watch her.

"Dere's time," he took off the hat and threw it expertly onto the round table, nearly causing a lonely orange to roll over.

"Good," she said, her voice less playful. "Don't ferget t'put yer weddin' band back on. Ya fergot it yesterday. _Again_."

Right. He kissed her shoulder, envying all those men who must take off their rings at working hours. That was a rule that should be inforced in the waiting business too. "Remy, he missed ya today."

Anna giggled. "Ah didn't know ya even noticed me when ya're surfin'."

"I cannot not notice ya, ma chere. Ya're de brightest beauty dat ever lived."

"Oh, now Ah gets it!" She laughed. "That's why Ah always see ya fallin' off the board. Maybe Ah _should_ stop goin' down ta see ya."

"Mais, tu es terrible!" He faked a hurt look. "Remy, he t'ink he is much better."

"Oh, but ya are," she giggled, leaning towards him, snuggling her head onto his shoulder. "Ah mean, nowadays ya can even stand up on the board so… ya're definitely gettin' better."

Remy laughed with her but didn't continue the banter, embracing her body instead and minding their weights to avoid the chairs toppling over. After a while he sighed.

"A couple arrived yesterday," he informed her. He could feel her eyelashes batting against his neck, but she neither moved nor spoke. "Anoder is due today and anoder tomorrow."

There was a moment of silence. He could feel her deep breathings against his body.

"One o' them is a pair of agents," she said, and he nodded.

"Ya be careful, ya hear?" She whispered. He could hear the worry in her voice.

"C'est bien, ma chere," he smiled, not the least worried for himself. "Remy got everyt'ing controlled."

He kissed her lips lightly while his hand played with the hem of the low neckline. The dress was fairly loose so his fingers easily slipped under the fabric, finding the bikini top she was wearing underneath.

Anna laughed against his lips. "Is that yer way o'sayin' Ah'm overdressed?"

With his usual grace, Remy pushed his chair away and straddled her.

"Ya tell me, chere." He rasped as he kissed the tip of her breast throught the two layers of fabric. "D'ya feel overdressed?"

Grinning, Anna slid the dress straps off her shoulders, revealing the light blue bikini top. Once Remy started nibbling on the exposed skin, the remaining pair of straps also slid off, allowing all the upper body access the thief might have longed for.

* * *

Jubilee was running on coffee, pizza and anger. She had barely slept from Monday to Tuesday and, in hindsight, maybe she should have done the insomnia thing on her first night in Portland instead of following Ray's good night sleep advice because, apparently, her imagination worked better while sleep deprived. She had woken up Hank the moment the idea had hit her, way before sunrise, and whisked him onto the jet. At sunrise, they were landing in Riverside, in Southern California, and Jubilee had gotten them a taxi almost immediately.

Arthur Townsend had been a lawyer at an average sized lawyer firm in Riverland until the shit had hit the fan. Namely, until his wife had gone to daddy – the firm founder – and finally convinced him that the paragon of a proper man was actually the paragon of smart wife abusers. The type that do not leave physical proof; the type that brainwash and keep their deeds hidden even from their own children. Mrs Townsed had finally acted when she saw her husband start to manipulate their older daughter away from a decent, hard-working fellow, whose greater failing was being a gardener fresh out of high-school and eager only to carry on with his father's small-time gardening business, and into the hands of a promising young lawyer, at least six years her daughter's senior, and whose greater failing, in Mrs Townsend's eyes, was being a mysoginist jerk who didn't even have the decency to hide his true colours in public, the way her husband did. In a sacrifice to save her daughter fom repeating her mistake, she had faced her circle's conception of proper wife etiquette and exposed the stinking filth in her family's life.

Amy had been the one to contact ex-Mrs Townsend (Ms Marshall, these days) and get the story out of her. Ray had been the one, even before this interview, to request that the lawyer firm inform them if any of Townsend's clients lived or had lived in Portland. The firm, in the person of the founder Mr Marshall, had been all too willing to help, in order to avoid any more scandals that could tarnish their reputation, and quickly informed them that no, none of the firm's clients lived or had lived in Oregon. In fact, all of their clients were mostly native to California, only a handful having come from other states, namely, Colorado, Nevada and Texas.

Anyway, by the time Mr Marshall had allowed her and Dr McCoy (using an image inducer, obviously; no sense in testing the local levels of mutant-phobia) to use Townsend's office to go through his clients' files, Raymond had already lectured Jubilee's ears off for vanishing without warning. The guy had been so pissed, he hadn't even complimented her on the idea. Jubilee knew he thought her idea was spot on, though, otherwise he'd have ordered her back.

And finally, at 1.26 pm, her hunch had been proved right. One of the clients, Millhouse (yupe, like the Millhouse kid from the Simpsons), was originally from Northern California. Weaverville, to be specific. A small town in the middle of a wooded-mountain-nowhere, to be even more specific. Thanks to a less-than-amicable divorce, Townsend had listed all property (and other stuff) that both sides possessed. Drum-rolls, please! Millhouse owned a small cabin in the middle of a six-acre property, all conveniently stashed away in the mountains. Of all the files she and Hank had gone through, that was the only reference to a secluded home. It just had to be it!

"It is over 450 miles away from Portland," Hank had reminded her. "That makes for seven to eight hours of driving. It is a big risk to transport a kidnapee for that long…"

But Jubilee was sure. If he had travelled at night, keeping under the speed limit, no one would have noticed him. Besides, who would ever even think of searching for him so far away from both his new house and his vic's house? No one. It was fool proof!

"Come on, Hank. We need to have us a lil' chat with this Millhouse guy before I call Raymond. He'll want all the details we can get before moving."

* * *

If you've enjoyed the chapter, please leave a review. Just let me know what you liked and disliked so I can keep improving my writing skills. Thank you.


	21. 21 One Down, One to Go

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters except my characters. Which are quite a few this time around. Let's try it this way: I don't own any Marvel characters that happen to show up in the upcoming chapters and which I'm sure you'll recognise without any need to name long lists.

* * *

 **21\. One Down, One to Go**

The cabin stood a few hundreds of feet from the road in a patch of overgrown terrain. There was a dirt road but it was such a narrow, unkept path that only a four-wheel drive could get through. Not that it mattered much: Jubilee's team was going in on foot.

At six in the morning, the sun was already up and casting really long shadows everywhere, which basically meant that it wasn't heating up the air at the ground level. The fact that the chill was on the 50ºF mark didn't bother Jubilee – once upon a time, she'd landed on a snowdrift wearing shorts. Now that's a serious level of chill, to put it mildly. Her colleagues, though, hadn't had the same life-training as she had: standing outside the cars, doing nothing for almost twenty minutes as Raymond Chase finished prepping the intervention with the Trinity County Sheriff, the chill had dripped into their bones so hard, their teeth had been almost clattering when Ray-man gave the order to move.

A handful of the Sheriff's officers were trailing behind, ready to offer all the required support, but Jubilee was the one calling the shots.

Not that there was any novelty there: Ray-man always had her heading the team in this type of situations. Said she had as much experience on the ground at twenty as most guys didn't have at forty. He had had issues with everything else, but never with her leadership abilities under fire.

As Jubilee crouched behind a tree trunk, Tommy at her side while Elton and Amy took their places on the opposite side of the clearing, she took stock of every tip-off available. The jeep parked in front of the cabin door, its roof covered with leaves (or pine needles if you cared to be specific), the shuttered windows, the smoking chimney, the silence.

At six am in the woods, you do not have silence. You got birds warbling away in a headache inducing competition. Silence at that time means something's wrong. Very wrong. The million-dollar question was: were the birds spooked because of their arrival – which hadn't been noisy and had happened over half an hour ago, which meant the birds should have gotten used to their quiet presence – or were they spooked because of something else?

She took one long deep breath. There was an out-of-place smell in the air. Nothing strong but… Jubilee sniffed the air again. Urine, maybe? Feces? It was too faint to tell. One thing was certain: at its origin, it was not a pleasant smell. She didn't want to think about what it might be, even if her head was unnecessarily suggesting 'decomposing corpse'.

And then there were the shutters. It could mean the guy had blinded himself and they could approach without worry… or the asshole could be half-paranoid and have a peeping hole.

The smoke coming off the chimney was too faint for actual cooking. And if there had been actual cooking, they'd be able to smell it too. Unless he was paranoid, he was most probably sleeping, enjoying the warmth of a fire in the mountain dawn cold.

Jubilee got up and got her gun out of the holster. On her mark, the two pairs moved silently to each side of the cabin and stopped. There was a wooden deck which, old and poorly maintained, was basically an early warning device.

As Jubilee leaned against the old timber wall, next to the deck and about a foot from the closest windown, she could get a better whiff of the smell she'd noticed earlier. Feces and urine, no doubts now.

"Stay here," she whispered to Tommy. "And do _not_ move."

Because he liked being unpredictable, which Jubilee appreciated immensely in all situations but one: when guns might be involved.

She swiftly raced the length of the cabin to join Amy and Elton, then came close to the window on their side and sniffed. The stink of urine and feces was much weaker there. As in almost nothing.

"The cabin has three rooms inside," she reminded them, her voice as low as possible. "The entry room with fireplace, stove, fridge and the works, plus two bedrooms to each side. Townsend must be on this side, while Michelle is on the other side."

They nodded and Jubilee studied the deck, uniformly strewn with leaves, pine needles, and twigs. Even the area immediately in front of the door. Townsend had not left the cabin recently.

It was about then that Jubilee noticed the birds weren't quiet any more, and she had a sudden bad feeling.

"I'm going to pick the lock," she said. "Get ready to move in as soon as I have it open."

Jubilee signalled Tommy to remain quiet, then chose the shortest path to the door without actually facing it. Just in case Townsend had a shotgun pointed at the thing.

The old wood creaked under her shoes, but Jubilee knew how to move silently. You do not go around with the Wolverine and not learn how to walk silently. If for nothing else, because he'd very quickly stop taking you around. Silently (well, more silently than most people – she _was_ walking on an old wooden deck so there was enough creaking to catch a paranoid criminal's attention) but surely, Jubilee reached the door.

She had to face it in order to pick the lock, but she was crouching so she hoped that, if a shotgun did go off, it should miss her head. Of course, the shotgun might already have gone off. Probably just before their arrival, forty-five minutes before. Which didn't mean she was about to forego basic precaution, gut feeling or no gut feeling. The lock clicked and the door started moving, then got stuck with a weak wail. Gunpowder. She could smell a feeble but clear scent of gunpowder.

Jubilee got the gun out of the holster and signalled her team, then she pushed the door hard and darted in, the gun screening the wide, gloomy room as she quickly backed onto a wall, making sure no one was about to jump her.

Even as the door screeched back to its initial almost closed position, cutting down the amount of light coming into the room, Jubilee could see the body sprawled on the armchair and a shotgun on the floor.

"He's dead!" She called out as she heard her team's steps hurrying through the deck. "Check the room on the left!"

Training had forced into her mind the need to keep your gun ready throughout a house search, after a forced entry, even if she had reasons to believe the house was empty. What had made that particular rule stick for good once she was out of the practice and in the real world was Raymond Chase. She could ignore those rules, he'd told her, if she wanted to cut herself some slack and be suicidal. He couldn't care less. But her team came first and even the most ridiculous rule could one day save the life of one of her men (he used 'men' for all officers and gender be damned, his words, sort of), that meant she could not _ever_ endanger people under her command by shaking off a preventive measure.

So, even though Jubilee was one hundred percent sure there was no danger anywhere in the cabin, she still headed towards the closed door to the room on the right with her gun ready.

"Michelle Olsen," she called out, testing the handle. It wasn't locked.

Jubilee looked back as the front door wailed open in time to see Elton and Tommy entering, guns in hand. She pointed towards the left, to the other closed door and turned back to her door. In a swift motion, she opened it and entered, immediately putting her gun away.

"Get Beast in here," she spoke into her radio, as she knelt by the woman's battered body. "She's been shot but she's still alive."

She was naked and handcuffed to a floor hook, lying on her side. Jubilee took off her jacket as she glanced over the woman's face, covered in dried blood and apparently half healed from a severe beating. Jubilee's worry, though, was the shot to the abdominal area that was bleeding profusely with every faint breathing movement. She quickly applied pressure to the wound with the folded jacket.

"Michelle, can you hear me?"

The woman had been restrained there for at least four days. The floor, and her body, were covered in urine and feces. The gunshot wound was bad enough, getting it infected with all that shit was not going to help none.

"Jubilee?" Amy's steps approached but Jubilee didn't look back. "Townsend had a cell phone on his lap. His last call was to a Darren Woodrow, approximately an hour ago. Tom said he remembers the name from the list of employees at Marshall's lawyer firm."

"Look into it," Jubilee answered. Michelle's breathing seemed to be getting shallower. "Where's Beast?"

"He's coming," the woman answered softly. "It takes at least ten minutes to get here from the road."

Jubilee cursed in silence. If her healing factor wasn't particularly robust, going hungry for four days might have made it too weak to deal with the blood loss and the infections and… Damn it! If only they hadn't spent half an hour wasting time on the road…

"Hang in there, Michelle. Hang in there."

* * *

It was barely eight in the morning, but since the day had woken up with no fog, no clouds, barely a breeze, that Wednesday was bound to be a scorching hot day. Anna lay on her towel, enjoying the sun and trying to make herself comfortable, which wasn't easy. The bikini top just wouldn't fit comfortably, which was stupid because she'd worn it the week before and it had fit like a glove. Now, though… Anna sat up with a grunt and adjusted the thing for the millionth time. Remy had been frisky with them the day before but he hadn't been rough. There was absolutely no reason for being sore.

Glancing around her, Anna eyed the woman. She was wearing a wide-brimmed hat and reading a novel while her partner was out surfing the waves, which were particularly weak that morning.

Anna had expected the woman to start a conversation but no. The long-haired woman hadn't as much as glanced her way. If they really were agents sent to attack the Garrardes, they had two possibilities: they either tried to make contact, or they set up a surveillance from afar. Or nearby. If that was the case, they might be seeing Remy's habit of surfing early in the morning as an opening to try something. A drowning, for example. But since Anna didn't usually join him in the sea, how would they turn that into a deadly accident for the both of them?

The excited scream of children got Anna's attention. A group of two couples and three children were approaching. The youngest girl tried to sprint after the two eldest ones but tripped and fell down. A woman came up to her at about the same time as she started crying. The two older kids looked back for a moment then rushed forward, calling out perfect spots for the beach umbrellas. When Anna looked back to the sea, her gaze met the woman's. She was holding the book as if she'd just looked up from it. The little girl screeched again and the woman's eyes darted towards the sound, then back to Anna. She shrugged a polite smile and once more focused on her book.

Anna tried to adjust the bikini top one more time then felt too aggravated to stick around for longer. She wanted nothing but to get rid of that top. The woman had had enough chances to spark a conversation, after all they were what? Ten feet apart? If she hadn't so far, it was probable it wouldn't happen. Period. They might even just be a normal couple having a normal vacation, anyway! She got up, walked over to the limit of the water and blew the mightiest whistle she was capable of. Sitting on his board – which seemed to be what he spent most of the time doing – Remy looked up and waved.

"Ah'm goin' in, Pierre!" She yelled, pointing at the house.

He lifted his hand in an ok gesture and she went back to get her towel.

"They're a bit like kids, aren't they?"

"What?" Anna looked over at the smiling woman, a finger marking her progression on the book.

"No waves today," she said with a resigned sigh. "But they still want to spend two or three hours in the water confident that we'll be waiting on the sand, very pleased for them. As if the world revolved around their desires. Like little kids."

Anna looked back at the water. Both Remy and the other man were sitting on their boards, waiting for a worthwhile wave that was not going to show up any time soon. The sea was as flat as it could be that morning.

"Well," she drolled out. "Ah guess 'little kid' fits my Pierre like a glove."

The other woman laughed. "I've got a feeling you don't put up with it much, though. Me? I don't think I'd ever have the courage to get up and leave him alone. Poor thing. You see, Morton is honestly convinced I'm impressed with his surfing skills."

Anna laughed lightly as she glanced back at the ocean. Then her breasts complained against their imprisonment again and she picked up her towel.

"At least ya got somethin' ta distract yerself with," Anna motioned to the book as she put the towel over a shoulder.

"What can I say? Guys are much more thoughtful in novels than in real life. I'm Natalie, by the way. Natalie Beasley-Garnet. With an hyphen. Morton feels it's the modern thing to do, joining a woman's maiden name to her husband's."

Anna nodded. "Sue Ann Garrarde. Ya're stayin' here fer long?"

"Two weeks. We're staying at the Pelican Inn. And you?"

"We live in the town. It's a nice lil' place ta live in. No fuss, no traffic. Waves. We figured we might as well stick around fer some time."

"Oh, yeah. This is a little piece of heaven, isn't it?" Natalie sighed. "Well… I won't hold you back any longer."

Anna glanced at the sea. "Ah suppose Ah'll see ya tomorrow then. Bye."

As she walked away, she resisted the urge to look back. Maybe they were agents after all.

* * *

If you've enjoyed the chapter, please leave a review. Just let me know what you liked and disliked so I can keep improving my writing skills. Thank you.


	22. Confrontations and Plans

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters except my characters. Which are quite a few this time around. Let's try it this way: I don't own any Marvel characters that happen to show up in the upcoming chapters and which I'm sure you'll recognise without any need to name long lists.

* * *

 **22\. Confrontations and Plans**

Kate Bennet's house was empty as the three young women entered. The early afternoon light was coming in through the living room window, painting the pine wood table into a deep, glowing yellow. Jubilee let her hand slide over the top and her mind slipped to Michelle Olsen, fighting an acute case of septicaemia in the infirmary of the X-Men. If only she had thought of going to the Marshall lawyer firm sooner… And she couldn't stop thinking about Rogue and Gambit either. Because if she failed again, it would be th…

"Hey," Jubilee jumped at Sofía's voice. "Are you ok?"

She nodded a 'yeah' and glanced at Laura, who finished picking the lock of the cupboard with shameless ease. Both Jubilee and Sofía came closer, picked up folders.

"Do you still have doubts," Jubilee asked Sofía while she scanned the folders, looking for the one with the name 'Garrarde'.

"I never said I doubted Bennet was the mole. And I _still_ doubt that confronting her is the best way to get to the bottom of this."

Jubilee might have agreed with Sofía in another reality, but, in this reality, they had Laura by their side. And if Laura was anything like Wolverine, Kate Bennet _was_ going to talk. Whether she wanted to or not. With any luck, Gambit and Rogue could drop their aliases and move back to a safe location.

Sofía grabbed another couple of folders and sat down at the table, spread the documents about. There was nothing there with the Garrarde name. Bennet had probably sent it to her agents. Jubilee took a deep breath, trying to purge her mind of her failures (like Michelle, like SPAD) and her could-be failures (like the mole hunt). She needed to focus. She wandered around the table. Next to the cupboard, Laura leaned against a wall and crouched into a relaxed waiting position, despite being obviously ready to move. Her gaze was slightly detached, unemotional. She would probably extract whatever intel from Bennet even more efficiently that Wolvie. His violence had always been more personal, passionate even. As if he was avenging someone. Laura was definitely colder. Icy. The question was whether Sofía would accept Laura's methods.

"If she is working for Langley," Sofía said as she returned to the cupboard and picked more files, "he's not the one choosing the targets. She is."

Jubilee nodded and picked a random folder from the table, skimming through the documents inside. If Bennet broke down with their questioning, Sofía wouldn't have to know how far Laura and Jubilee were ready to go. Of course that, if the Killer Mole clamped up, then Jubilee would have to lure Sofía out of the apartment and allow Laura to do her work. Because Bennet _had_ to spill the names of her associates. Laura would do it, get the names, if Sofía wasn't in the way. Obviously, that didn't mean maiming or torturing. Jubilee had been very clear with Laura: the target had to speak, one way or the other, but was not to be maimed or tortured. At worst, she would receive a few painful motivations for speaking.

"Have you found any reference to the Garrardes?"

Looking more carefully at the papers in her hands, Jubilee shook her head. "This file is all about country-wide trends. There are no references to individuals or families or whatever."

"Yes, she has several folders with trends over here too." Sofía dropped a pile of fat folders on the table and stabilised it. "This here is all trends, which means..."

Sofía went back to the cupboard and brought the rest of the folders. "She has more stuff on trends than on individuals."

Jubilee joined Sofía and started going through the pile of individuals while Sofía focused on the trends.

"Based on Laura's photos, at least four of those folders are about people we know were killed by the mole," Sofía grumbled. "But I couldn't gather anything about the other deaths. They do not fit the MO of an entire family killed and there doesn't seem to be anything connecting them. And don't forget that two of the names Laura gave us refer to people whose killers were identified and prosecuted."

Yeah, and the killers didn't seem to be the least related to anything even remotely resembling an organised group, Jubilee knew.

Sofía put her fists on the hips and frowned at the piles.

"I don't know, Jubes. If she is the mole, then she is doing a lot more than merely choosing targets for Langley."

Jubilee glanced at Laura. She had closed her eyes and seemed utterly relaxed.

"Listen, Bennet can easily admit to just a part of what she's really up to in order to shield the rest of the organisation. You know that's how these people work. Tapping her communications and contacts can quickly give us a lot more information."

Yes, Jubilee knew that.

"These people aren't amateurs, Sofía. Rogue and Gambit don't have their powers and, if we don't get some names now, they _can_ get in serious trouble. I'm not about to let that happen. I mean, just think about it: they're totally defenseless! What if the Mole drops the accidents for this one and has a sniper shoot them from afar? What if the plan is to stage, I don't know, a suicide? Rogue and Gambit are putting themselves on the line for me, and I am not going to let..."

"She's here," Laura said in a low voice, cold and professional, as she got up and strectched.

Jubilee and Sofía took a deep breath each and the three young women positioned themselves.

* * *

"Hi, Sue Ann," Karyn's voice didn't sound as chirpy as usual. "I'm just calling to warn you the Thursday evening event has been called off."

Anna checked the oven timer. Four more minutes to go.

"Is somethin' wrong, sugar?"

"Actually, yeah. Three of the kids have the stomach flu… and it seems there are two more ready to follow in their footsteps."

That was a pity, it was going to ruin the kids' vacations. "So ya're postponing the 'treasure night-hunt' then."

"Uh-huh. We're replacing it with a cinema session in the main hall. It means we won't need as many hands on deck. In fact, I'm going to take the night off too. Lacey says it's my delayed birthday present."

Anna laughed. "Ain't that nice of her! Are ya goin' anywhere?"

"My sister was saying something about a girls' night out. Norah is free too. Do you want to join us?"

That gave her an idea. "If ya don't have anythin' more specific planned, Ah could give Pierre a ring and get 'im ta fix us a table fer a special evenin'."

Karyn laughed on the other side. "That would be great, Sue Ann! What time shall we pick you up then?"

"Lemme call Pierre an' see how busy they are. Ah'll call ya back in a sec."

Anna switched off the phone just in time to switch off the oven too. The chocolate cake was smelling… not wonderfully. She'd followed the recipe to the letter but something smelled plain wrong. She wouldn't call it rancid but… ugh, definitily disagreeable. Oh well, she'd think about it after phoning Remy. She grabbed the phone and headed to the balcony, for some fresh air. Perhaps he could fix the band to serenade them for a bit. Karyn would love that.

* * *

"I DON'T know what you're talking about!"

"Like hell you don't!" Jubilee shot back. "We caught you red handed going through the database files. And you've got the files on the Wilsons, on the Gardners and on the Kendalls. All of them dead – _all_ of them! – and _you_ chose them!"

"I've _told_ you: I DON'T KNOW what you're talking about! I din't choose anyone and I didn't kill anyone! You're INSANE!"

"OK," Sofía cut in, glaring at Jubilee in order to make her step back. She was much too riled! Sofía faced the overweight woman tied to the chair. "Let's assume you didn't do anything wrong. In that case, why did you access the file on the Garrardes?"

"I don't know who the Garrardes are! I've never accessed their file, or files, or whatever."

"Friday," Jubilee spit from the other side of the table. "June 21. 1.50pm. I was online when you accessed their file!"

Sofía looked at the woman, Kate, and saw her blink in surprise, her bushy eyebrows going up as she took a sharp breath.

"Are you gonna deny that too?"

"I… I didn't acc…"

Something was not right. She glanced at Jubilee, intent on signalling her suspicions, but her colleague was sizzling.

"I was _online_ , dammit! I saw your actions _live_!"

"I was just doing trend analysis; that's all I ever do!"

Jubilee grabbed a handful of folders and threw them over the table, at Bennet. Sofía was about to ask Laura to escort her outside, for some very necessary cool-down.

"And these are what, huh?! They're _what_!" Bennet seemed to be losing her cool too, because her chest was now heaving up and down in an irregular way. "Is the Gardners file a trend analysis? Is it?!"

Sofía kept an eye on Kate Bennet while approaching Jubilee. A tear was trickling down her face.

"I… they… it was my case…"

"What do you mean," Sofía cut in before Jubilee could burst anew, pushing her backwards, gently but firmly. Hopefully, she'd get the hint.

"I… I got the police request… when the family died. I thought… I sent it to Jake Butterworth because… there was just something weird about it. So I sent it and I…"

"That does not explain why you have a copy of the file," Sofía said, purposefully using a calm voice.

"I…" She closed her beady eyes behind the small glasses and sniffed.

Jubilee grunted behind Sofía, frustrated, that the woman was trying to buy time; but Sofía turned sharply with a low 'shush' that had the young woman turn abruptly and scowl to the window. What the hell had gotten into her!

"I trail the cases I send to the squads," Bennet said in a shivering whisper, defeated.

"Why?"

Bennet looked down, refusing to face her interrogator.

"Because I want to know how it works… the procedures for the squads."

" _Why_?" Jubilee snapped from the window.

She shook her head and strangled a sob. "I didn't kill anyone!"

"What have you told Langley?"

"Langley?" That look was of genuine confusion, Sofía had no doubts. "What Langley?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe your aunt's husband? _That_ Langley?"

" _Jubes_ ," Sofía hissed through clenched teeth, before softening her expression and approaching the woman, whose eyes were skipping from Jubilee to Sofía.

"Uncle Brandon? I haven't seen him in years! What does _he_ have to do with anything?"

OK, that nailed it, as far as Sofía was concerned: Langley and the outdated Friends of Humanity were not behind this or, if a shoot-off was implicated, then Uncle Langley wasn't involved.

"He works for the Friends of Humanity," Sofía explained.

"What? No!" Bennet's pitch rose in a sudden fear. "No, if he… the FBI did background checks if he was… I wouldn't have been allowed in the department. He isn't… he _can't_ be. You're wrong! I'll be kicked out if… You're WRONG!"

Well, at least two things were certain: Bennet knew nothing about Friends of Humanity and she was terrified of being kicked out of the SPAD.

"If you didn't tell him about the Garrardes, who the hell did you tell?"

"I DIDN'T!" She yelled at Jubilee. "The only files of individuals are cases that I'm studying, everything else is just trend analysis! That's ALL I do!"

"1.50pm," Jubilee reminded her. "You accessed their file and it was _not_ part of a trend analysis."

"But I _didn't_!"

"STOP LYING!"

This had gone on long enough! Sofía got in front of Jubilee and pushed her back with a 'that's enough'.

"I'M _NOT_!"

"Get off me!"

But Sofía didn't get off, instead pushing her farther back, away from Bennet. What was driving her into… well, not a berserker rage, but definitely into losing control.

"Get a hold of yourself, Lee!"

With a deft manoeuvre, she escaped Sofía's hands, hissing in a frenzy. "She's _lying_!"

"She's not."

"Huh?"

Both Jubilee and Sofía turned to Laura, leaning casually by the cupboard.

"She's not lying," she repeated. "She honestly believes she did not access the Garrarde file."

"That's not possible," Jubilee scoffed. "I saw her…"

But then she stopped, bit her lower lip. She exchanged a glance with Sofía and covered her face with her hands, a groan as she apparently came to her senses. Right. Time to get back on track. Exhaling forcefully, Sofía turned to Bennet. If she hadn't accessed the data…

"OK, then, who has access to your ID and password?"

Someone was using the woman's credentials and they had just made the most moronic mistake ever!

"No one!" Bennet spit. "No one has access to individual passwords and only the head manager and the head analyst have access to our IDs, you _know_ that! The squad agents have the same security procedures as we do!"

Sofía was aware that Jubilee was cursing under her breath by the table. Anyway, her colleague had been the one antagonising Bennet beyond necessity. Sofía would just have to use that to her advantage and turn their false enemy into an ally.

"Right. You need to listen to me, Bennet." Sofía planted herself a foot from the tied up woman. " _Someone_ got access to your ID _and_ password. _Someone_ is _using_ you as a scapegoat for the leak in the department. So think carefully. _Who_ could have gotten your password?"

Bennet's head rolled backwards, two tears rolling down her face.

"Think about it," Sofía insisted. "Where do you keep your password?"

"I _don't_ ," she said through clenched teeth, her eyes closed tight behind the glasses. "I created a random string of numbers and letters… ten characters. And I memorised it. I never wrote it down. _Never_."

She scoffed a half sob.

"I'm the only analyst that actually followed the protocol: random numbers and characters, don't write it down. Everyone else has it written down on their desks." A sobbed laugh. "Marsha's password is her daughter's name and birthdate, for crying out loud. And _everyone_ knows that!"

OK. So who had chosen Bennet for the scapegoat hadn't gone for the easiest prey. Why? What made her more attractive to the mole than all the other password slobs?

"Laura, please."

Sofía glanced briefly at the paper strewn table… and floor now, too. Jubilee was looking at it too. She heard the snikt of Laura's claws being extended and the mute sound of the zip-ties being cut.

"Why," Jubilee asked in a hoarse voice, not looking up. "Why are you studying all these statistics, and trends, and cases…"

Yes, that had to be it. She had been chosen as a scapegoat because of her extra-curricular activities.

The chair complained as someone pushed it away. "Get OUT of my house!"

"Don't you get it, Bennet?"

Jubilee walked towards the short, plump woman and Sofía intersected her, hissed that _she_ needed to go out.

" _You_ 're the scapegoat!" Jubilee still spit angrily, even as she allowed Sofía to push her towards the hall. "There's someone going through the database, choosing people to kill, whole families! And they chose _you_ as their scapegoat! And why? Because of _this_."

Bennet's eyes followed Jubilee's hand and she clenched her teeth as she looked at the papers scattered over table and floor. She closed her fists. Then she glared at Jubilee with undisguisable hate.

"Because it doesn't work. It's not the slightest bit optimal!"

"What do you mean," Sofía asked, a hand keeping Jubilee in the hall.

"The SPAD procedures, the whole system!" The small eyes focused on Sofía. "There are only two squads and they're based on the East Coast, the area with the least problems. Why? Have you got any idea how expensive it is to keep flying the squads over to the West Coast? The area which simply has the densest mutant and former mutant population and which sends out the greatest number of help requests? _Millions_."

She glared back at Jubilee with a nasty sneer.

"Someone is setting this up for budget cuts in the future. But no, let's not worry about the future. Let's talk about the mutie states: California and Oregon, with Washington as a close third."

"The _mutie_ states?" Jubilee hissed.

The woman snickered and Sofía whispered urgently at Jubilee not to let the woman goad her into another outburst even as Bennet sneered viciously on.

"Oh yes, you're all muties too, aren't you? Well, I've got an idea: let's get all offended and forget what's really important here. And what if we don't even think about how the _mutie_ West Coast is a hot bed for problems, huh?"

Jubilee took a deep breath and held on. Sofía, still not very sure of her colleague's temper, returned her attention to the plump woman.

"I mean, who even cares if every hassled mutie flees to the West Coast so there's plenty of targets to choose from. Who cares if it's the area whose cops are the most willing to treat them as regular folks and, at the same time, more willing to ask for federal help. And not because they're a bunch of pig-heads, but because they would rather have expert help to deal with delicate situations. Now tell me something: where the hell do you have the greatest number of organised attacks against muties, huh? And the big question: where do you have the least number of SPAD technicians dealing with incoming reports from the police?"

Sofía frowned. There were monthly meetings to look at and analyse the detailed statistics that the growing database kept throwing up. These numbers had never come up.

"I know what you're thinking, but I've got the answer for you."

"Someone's distorting the figures," Sofía said, even if it didn't fully explain it.

That got a scornful laughter out of Bennet.

"No, you dumbass! You don't need to distort the figures, that would just call unwanted attention. You just have to make sure you use the right parameters to get the picture you want to show instead of the real picture. You know what they say, right? You can use statistics to prove anything, even the truth."

"It's the mole," Jubilee said. "They're manipulating wh…"

"No!" Bennet interrupted. "It's no mole that's doing that! It's the people who want SPAD to be a temporary thing. People like your precious Norton," she spit at Sofía. "People who want this experience to fail. They just have to show how inefficient SPAD is in the West Coast while at the same time spending millions of dollars to fail their objectives. That's all they need. SPAD closed and database hijacked into unknown hands."

"There's still someone using your credentials to leak information," Jubilee said coldly. "And you're the one who is set to fall while the mole gets off scot-free."

The woman's sneer sobered into a bitter scowl.

"Who could it be," Sofía pressed. "If you've analysed the data that thoroughly, you must have an idea."

Bennet clenched her teeth and shook her head. "I know there is at least one technician that distorts the information from police reports. If you compare the information on the SPAD database to some of the actual reports, there are some discrepancies. But I don't have the clearance to get a name."

That had been one of Pryde's ideas for added security. Each technician left behind a log of their activities, but their ID was just a code, never the person's real name. Only security or a higher manager could have that type of access. It was supposed to protect the workers from pressure. They weren't even supposed to reveal in which FBI department they were working, not to mention they were rotated from one state to the next every week.

"Whoever the mole is," Sofía said, "it's someone that discovered your password. So it's either someone that works in the same area as you, or it's someone who had access to your computer and is using keylogging software. We're going to ask Shadowcat – she was involved in the creation of the database – we're going to ask her to do an extra security check on all of the computers and see if there's any sort of malware that can be used that way."

Bennet nodded curtly. "If she's involved in the security, she can find out who the tech is."

"Not secretly, she can't. There will be a log of that search and it's too early to show our hand; it would just spook our targets before we could capture them." Sofía took a step towards the woman and sighed. "Listen, you were framed. I'm sorry we took so long to understand that but… now you can help us find this mole and get even. Can we count on you?"

Sofía was keenly aware that Bennet looked away with clenched teeth before giving a terse 'yes'. But they had just burst into her home, accusing her when she was innocent. Anger and distrust was the least they could expect.

"Okay," Sofía offered a light smile. "I'll contact Shadowcat and get back to you as soon as possible."

The other one nodded but once more refused to look anyone in the eye.

"See if you can think of anyone that could have had access to your computer, ok?" Sofía insisted, getting a piece of paper and jotting down her burner-phone number. "Anyone who's aware of your… research. Here. This is my phone number. It's non-traceable but it's best if you call me from a secure location."

She accepted the piece of paper but kept her head down, teeth still clenched.

"Thank you," Sofía said. "We'll be leaving now, ok? Remember: we can get this asshole if we work together."

* * *

Karyn and her sister Janie sat side by side, while Anna and Norah took the other two seats. Unfortunately, Thursday evening was not meant to have live music but Remy escorted them to a quiet table by the window, each lady being awarded with a small flower bouquet and lit candles.

"He's so charming," Norah commented as he moved on to check on the other guests. But Anna saw too well how her eyes followed Remy's butt.

"Yeah," she said a bit dryly. "Ya can strip 'im of everythin', but ya can't get rid o' his charm. No matter what."

A familiar voice had Anna look around in time to see Remy escort the Garnets to a table. Natalie smiled and came over to say hi, greet Sue Ann's friends. It made Anna's skin crawl. On the other hand…

"Ya know, Natalie, Ah was thinkin'… have ya tried an evenin' beach picnic. Ah mean, with Morton bein' so keen on the waves and all, Ah bet ya'd both love it."

She looked surprised but she quickly made a pleasant face about it. If Anna could convince them to go to the beach at night, she'd buy Remy some time to break into their room. It was impossible to do so during the day, but in the evening…

"Ah know," she clapped in fake enthusiasm. "Let's have a beach bonfire. Pierre is gettin' a bit bored with not goin' out at night so a beach party would be great. Ah can organise some music. What d'ya say, Natalie?"

"It's a great idea, Sue Ann," Norah joined before Natalie could react. "We could have some food and drinks, and we could watch the sunset before the party really gets going."

"Like a luau?" Katryn's sister jumped in. "I've always wanted to go to a luau!"

"Ya could bring yer guys," Anna invited shamelessly before turning to Natalie again. "Can Ah count on ya fer the 'love beach party'?"

By now, though, the woman had recovered from the surprise and was probably thinking how to turn the party into a lethal accident.

"You bet you can count on us," she beamed. "What will we need to bring?"

Another idea crossed Anna's mind and she looked back at Morton.

"Tell ya what, Ah don't wanna ruin yer romantic dinner. Why don't we meet at the bar fer drinks after dinner, huh? We'll settle everythin' then."

With a bit of luck, the party preparations would take long enough for Remy to check their room that very night.

* * *

Nobody said a word on their way to Sofía's room in a motel. Not that going about in silence was weird for Laura, but Jubilee was keenly aware she was biting her own tongue to avoid letting out her feelings. Fucking stupid, fucking mess, fucking _everything_. It was not going to help cursing like that out loud, was it? And now what? _Now_ what? Back to square minus one while Rogue and Gambit were definitely in boiling hot waters.

Sofía let them in and locked the door. Laura looked at both of them casually, waiting for… for what? Orders? And then, just like that, Jubilee knew what to do.

"Listen, Laura, when do you have to go back to college?"

Her face was expressionless. "There is time."

Perfect. "Do you think you can head over to Muir Beach and back up Rogue and Gambit? They can be attacked any time."

She offered a smile that lit her eyes more than her face. "No problem."

Okay, things were starting to look up. Sofía was already opening her laptop to check the earliest flights to California so Jubilee got her wallet out and chose one of her two credit cards.

"Here, you can use this for expenses."

Laura took it in cheerful silence and started to get her bag ready.

"Laura?" The young woman stopped and looked up. Jubilee knew she was a cold-blooded killer, but she looked so carefree. Almost as if she was going away for a vacation. "They're wearing power-inhibitors; they're vulnerable. You have to protect them, ok?

She nodded. Again, Jubilee felt like she was being given a bored 'ok I got it already, move on'. She felt like the young woman didn't understand how vital this was.

"Look, this is my fault. I put them in this situation, do you understand? It's my responsibility if something happens to them."

"I will protect them," she nodded again. "Nothing will happen."

"Thanks." She smiled her trademark 'are you done with the unnecessary concern and anxiety so I can get down to business' smile so Jubilee got out of her hair. She was deadly. She'd kill everyone before they had a chance to hurt anyone.

Right. With Rogue and Gambit's safety taken care of, sort of, it was time to focus on the blasted mole. How were they going to force it out now? Damn it all to hell. She got her phone out.

"Pryde? It's Jubilee. Listen we got reasons to believe someone is using key-logging software on some of the SPAD computers. Can you check it on the hush-hush? … Ok. And can you tell who put it there, if you find anything? … No, 'course not. Yeah. Yeah, I'll stop by tomorrow." Sofía would, at least. "Yeah. See you later."

If only the added security measure Jubilee had asked for, the one which identified the location of the log in, was already in place. Then she could tell which computer the mole had accessed from. Of course, if the mole was someone working next to Bennet, they could use her computer, but the chances of being seen were much higher.

"Here's the flight number," Sofía told Laura. "It leaves at 6 am and you should get to San Francisco at about 5 pm. If there aren't any delays, you may be able to arrive at Muir Beach at about six."

Jubilee flopped onto the bed. They needed to start lining up suspects. She tried to think about the information Bennet had given them. How come no one else had noticed that? Although, the answer _was_ obvious. They were always looking at crime statistics, whether victims or perps or whatever, but they often looked at percentages, relative numbers. In that sense, the West Coast didn't have a higher incidence of criminal activities. It blanketed the fact that mutants and former mutants were heading West. It hid the fact that… If someone were to start talking of the Western states as mutie states…

Focus. Who cooked up those statistics? The head analyst, Nicolas Wilkins. Of course that only meant he was working with the people that wanted to close SPAD down eventually. Could he also be the mole? Yes, he could. Even if avoiding taking sides on the undermining of SPAD would be better to keep attentions away.

Who else? Barnaby Simmons, the headmanager. Simmons was based in D.C. so he could have access. He was also one of the people who had thought unnecessary to add location to the logging, even if there was no extra spending involved.

Linton Barrett and Marsha Hillam were two other options. They were close to Bennet and could easily have access to her computer when she left for a coffee or for lunch. They could easily notice her part-time research activities too.

Who else?

* * *

The garlic had started it. Damn those mussels! Why had she ordered them in the first place? But she usually loved seafood. Another wave of nausea had Anna reposition herself at the toilet as the heaving – dry heaving by now – hit her again. God!

"Hey, are you ok?" A female voice she didn't recognise called from behind. "Do you need help?"

The heaving was too strong just then to respond, but another voice was censoring the first, that the poor woman obviously was not ok. A cool hand offered a steady support to Anna's forehead as another rubbed her back.

"It's OK," the voice said soothingly. "Go get a glass of water, Katie. Go on."

But the nausea seemed to be receding.

"Here, let me help you up." The woman discharged the WC and Anna felt so, so grateful for the support till the washbasin. "Wash your face. Katie will be back soon."

Anna wasn't about to wait for the glass though. She filled her mouth with water and rinsed it as best she could.

"Are you feeling better?"

That was when the other woman, Katie, returned with a glass and a bottle of sparkling water. Anna looked up, her body feeling like jelly, and noticed both women were well in their thirties.

"Do you want us to call someone? Or to help you to your room or something?"

In the meantime, Katie had opened the bottle and filled the glass.

"Here. Try to drink it, ok? It'll help."

Anna took a few sips and put the glass down. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it," the other woman said. "Are you alone in the hotel? Do you want us to call anyone?"

She shook her head. "Ah was havin' dinner with some friends…"

"I'll call them," Katie said.

"We were by the window… Uh…" God her mouth felt like sandpaper. Foul tasting sandpaper. She took another sip. "They're three women and… Oh, ask fer… uh… Pierre. Pierre Garrarde. He's a waiter. He's… He's my husband."

"I'll be right back."

"Katie, wait. I'm taking her outside, for some fresh air."

The woman nodded and left, while the other one embraced Anna's waist and told her to lean all she wanted, that she exercised a lot and could handle the extra weight.

"One step at a time, ok? You'll be as good as new once you get some fresh air. Come on."

Anna leaned on her as the woman led her outside. Yes, the night breeze was very soothing. She felt her strength coming back, faintly.

"Thanks fer all the help," she said as she sat on a chair the woman had just pulled out of a pile. "Ah'm Ann… Sue Ann."

"Well, Sue Ann, I'm Belinda Easom. Nice to meet you… although I wish it had been in better conditions."

"Chere!" Oh, Remy… "Ya OK, chere?"

Katryn and the others were right behind, and Anna felt crowded but she tried to smile, waving a hand. "Ah'm fine! Ah guess the mussels didn't agre wi'me."

And then she remembered the agents. Supposed agents. She needed to hang on till they finished their dinner so she could keep them down at the bar while Remy…

"I'm takin' ya home."

What? No, no, she was fine, she…

"I'm so sorry," Katryn was saying from the back while Norah mentioned the kids' stomach bug.

"Com'on," and Remy's strong arms felt so good, embracing her, supporting her.

The Garnets were talking to Norah but, as Remy headed towards the jeep, Natalie came up, wished she would recover swiftly from the stomach bug.

"We'll organise everything with Katryn and Norah," she added. "And we'll have our party next week, when you're all better."

It occurred to her then. Could they have done something to the food? Could they have… I don't know, poisoned it somehow? But no, because the tray had brought two servings, for Anna and for Katryn, and Katryn seemed fine.

"What happened?"

Anna shook her head. "Ah don't know. Katryn and I asked fer the mussels and she's fine so… the problem wasn't the mussels."

And it hadn't. It had been the garlic. She had felt somewhat put off by the garlic the other day too, when Remy had brought some take away mussels from the Inn for their lunch. God, first the chocolate cake, now the mussels. Ugh, just thinking about the chocolate cake gave her nauseas again.

"What about the Garnets?"

"Don't worry," he said with a tense smile. "First, ya need t'get over dat stomach bug. Remy, he'll find a way t' sneak in."

"But…"

"Non, non, chere. No buts. Ya go home and I go back t'de Inn. Den I'm goin' t'offer yer friends an' de Garnets some drinks on me. I'll be in and out o'deir room 'fore de first drinks are over."

But was it safe?

He must have noticed her unease because he flashed her a mischievous grin.

"De ladies who helped ya, dey's de new couple dat came in yesterday. I'm gonna invite 'em t'join de drinks. Extra folks, extra chat, extra time."

Anna sighed. "If ya're sure… but be careful, Remy."

Damn the garlic and the mussels and the chocol… uh…

"Remy… pull over, quick."

* * *

The cell phone vibrated in his pocket.

"Hello?"

"Beautiful night," a male voice said on the other side.

"It would be if it weren't so humid," he answered. "Is everything ready?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then do it. Make sure it happens _in_ the ambulance."

"Yes, sir. Just as planned."

He looked outside the window of his home office. It was a very pleasant night. He sighed and pressed a fast dial key.

"Beautiful evening," he said.

"It would be if it weren't so hot," a female voice answered.

"Report?"

"Target B has become sick and will be out of reach at least during the weekend. We should have a good opening to act next Monday or Tuesday, though."

"Good. Do it the moment you have the opportunity. No need for further contacts."

"Yes, sir."

* * *

If you've enjoyed the chapter, please leave a review. Just let me know what you liked and disliked so I can keep improving my writing skills. Thank you.


	23. Denial

Before anything else, I'd like to apologise for the long silence.

A close family member has passed away and I have not had the spirit to stop by and review a chapter before posting it online.

Anyway, life must carry on and here I am again.

To make up for the lost time, and hoping you'll forgive my disappearance mid-story, I shall update on Saturdays and Sundays for three weekends straight.

* * *

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters except my characters. Which are quite a few this time around. Let's try it this way: I don't own any Marvel characters that happen to show up in the upcoming chapters and which I'm sure you'll recognise without any need to name long lists.

* * *

 **23\. Denial**

She had spent the night crying of frustration and impotence. All Kate Bennet had ever wanted was to be an FBI special agent. Just like the TV series. Smart clothes, sunglasses, authority. They were always there in the background, as invisible as MIB, and then they stepped in, flashed their credentials and took over. That was just what she had always wanted.

Instead, she had gotten stuck in the administrative section. Computers. Who cared about computers when you could be outside, being someone?

SPAD had been about knowing the right people since day one. Kate didn't know anyone. So she figured she'd just have to sweat to get what she wanted. No big deal. She had had to sweat for everything she had ever gotten. People like Kate never got anything in any other way. It was all a matter of hard work and stubborn insistence.

For the first time in her life, though… well, for the first time since leaving high school, she felt defeated. All her hard work had been for nothing. When she had realised there were forces sabotaging the Department, she had figured Valerie Cooper, the founder of SPAD, would be interested in her findings. Cooper would know who to talk to in order to counteract the disrupting forces and, thankful for the heads up, she would move Kate into her rightful position as an agent. A special agent. Unfortunately, Valerie Cooper was involved with the X-Men. Even more unfortunately, Jubilation Lee and Sofía Mantega had been X-Men. They would be the ones to contact Cooper and reap the benefits of her hard work.

If they were decent human beings, they'd name Kate as the brain behind the discovery. She was not going to hold her breath, though. Decent human beings are about as common as the tooth fairy.

A sudden noise caught Kate's attention. Someone had dropped a mug and was now cursing as he tried to fix the consequences. Kate looked back at the computer. She must focus. The last thing she needed right now was for someone to notice she was not her usual self.

Although… who _would_ notice it? She was invisible in the damned office. If it weren't an open plan office, she might even live with being invisible, but… Focus! At least there had been no urgent cases so far. God, she just wanted Friday to end.

She thought about her house. She hadn't cleaned up the paper strewn living room. Hadn't had the heart to pick up the pieces of months of hard work all turned to garbage. And she still felt the urge to cry when she thought about it.

"Here's your next police request, Kate," the computer informed her. "What action would you like to take?"

She was so fed up with it all. What was she going to do now, anyway? She had to create a new plan in order to… to become an agent. Special agent.

Request PHR003657. Rogers, Arnie had gotten himself murdered. One less loser in the world. Fuck it all to hell, she just wasn't in the mood.

Select file: Rogers, Arnie

Action: send to squad analyst

Let Asshole Butterworth deal with it. It was his job anyway. She had already wasted too much effort and energy canvassing every possible detail in order to make herself shine. Kate glanced at the watch. 9.23 am. The day was never going to end at this pace.

"Here's your next police request, Kate," the computer informed her. "What action would you like to take?"

Go home, she grumbled to herself.

"Hillam, Barrett, Bennet," Wilkins called suddenly. "In my office. Now!"

Shit! Now, what?

Pulling herself together, Kate joined her incompetent colleagues. It made her itch, being that close to them and having to wear a pleasant face.

"I'm afraid I have bad news," he started. "Jake Butterworth suffered an accident on his way to the office. He was run over by a car. I'm sorry to say he didn't make it. He died on his way to hospital."

Butt-head was dead? Well, good riddance. Should have happened sooner, if they asked her.

"You know the squads cannot be left without an analyst, right? So I was asked to choose a replacement as soon as possible."

Kate's brain screeched to a halt and she stopped breathing. She was Wilkins's best asset, he had said so himself. Yes! He was going to choose her. She was the best for the job! And she'd be working with the squads; she could start showing her agent qualities rather than just her analyst qualities. She…

"Linton Barrett, I expect you to start working with the squads next Monday. I need you to start getting everything ready for your move to New York. Go."

She breathed out, shocked. She was the one who… only Wilkins wouldn't choose her, would he? Men climb up in their careers; women make time while they don't become mothers and, ideally, stop working. Either way, Wilkins wouldn't help a woman climb anywhere.

"OK, that's it. Hillam, go back to your station; Bennet, stay."

Really? Because after the confrontation with those assholes the evening before and now being left to dry because of being a woman, she needed to find an empty toilet stall and cry till she was numb.

"Yes, sir?"

"Can I still call you Kate?" She nodded, doing her best to hide all the hurt and anger. "Thanks. Listen, I'm calling in a replacement for Barrett. You're my best analyst so I figured you're the best person to show him the ropes. What do you say?"

Oh, joy. Just what she wanted. "Thank you, sir."

"I've also been thinking. I've got my hands full and I sometimes feel like I'm not keeping an eye out on everything. Especially on the technicians. I have grounds to suspect some of them… they're just _not_ the right material to work at SPAD, if you know what I mean."

Oh. So he was on to the techs that distorted information while inserting it.

"Anyway, what I'm trying to say is that… would you like to be my personal assistant?"

Huh, what?

"It's not going to happen overnight," he quickly added. "I don't even have clearance to get myself an assistant just yet but… if you're interested… I wouldn't work with anyone else. What do you say? No, don't tell me now. Think about it. Tell me next week."

"Ok," she said slowly.

If she became his personal assistant, she'd be done. She'd never become an agent. But she couldn't say no to him, because he could drop a word with the right people and equally prevent her from ever becoming an agent.

"Thank you, sir," she said as an afterthought. For appearances sake.

"Don't thank me," he grinned. "Thank your hard work. Now go back to your station and remember: next week you start training the rookie. Then, if all goes well, you'll train your own replacement and… hell, I could even get you your own office. Wouldn't you like that?"

She tried to accompany him when he laughed, oh so pleased. _Ass-hole_! Freaking, stupid…

"And you'll also be the one keeping an eye on all the analysts. Pulling their ears when they mess up, teaching them right. You'll get the analysts working like clockwork, I'm sure." God, dear God! This was not happening. "Well, I won't keep you any longer. In the meantime, I'm going to ask security to send you clearance to work Barrett's Eastern Coast. I trust you can handle both Coasts… unlike Hillam. She barely keeps up with her region."

She needed a toilet stall. God, she needed her room. Who cared about all her research turned into garbage by the two ex-muties? She was stuck as an analyst for the rest of her life. Stuck in hell!

If only she could wake up now.

* * *

Anna entered the supermarket and headed to the fruit stands. Stiffly, she started choosing oranges and apples. What else did she need? Her eyes glanced towards the entrance, which she'd just shot through, towards the pharmacy. She breathed out.

"Sue Ann?" God, she actually jumped.

"Sorry," both Belinda Easom and her partner, Katie, smiled apologetically. "We didn't mean to scare you. Are you feeling better since last night?"

"Yes, thank you," Anna smiled back. "I wasn't expecting to come across anyone."

"Natalie invited us to your 'Love Beach Party'," Katie said. "Apparently, the more couples the better."

Anna just nodded, barely managing a smile worth its name. Then blurted a non-convincing 'it'll be great ta have ya around' and finished with the slight impression the couple thought she might be a homophobe, from the way both women looked at each other and started turning away.

"Huh, Ah don't think Ah'm my usual self, right now," she said. "When did ya say the party was scheduled fer?"

"Monday or Tuesday," Katie said in a subdued tone. "It'll depend on how you're feeling."

Obviously. Stupid question.

"Yeah. Well… see ya next week, then."

Anna saw them wander away and made up her mind. Agonising over stupid doubts was not going to help no one, was it? She looked at the pharmacy with determination and tried to breathe out her anxiety. It was probably nothing.

* * *

"Hey," Sofía called, sandwich in hand.

Jubilee had almost finished her own sandwich and quickly slid over in order to make room on the bench for Sofía. Though she really didn't have to: it was a normal length bench and she was the only one sitting there.

"What do you make of the news?"

Jubilee nearly growled: "Accident my ass! He was killed. And it was the mole, it has to be!"

Sofía nodded. She thought so too, she just didn't know why.

"Perhaps he'd been researching the database like Bennet," she thought out loud. "Perhaps the mole thought they were going to be made."

Jubilee shook her head. "No, I don't think so. The other day, I heard Jake telling Ray-man he wanted to get Bennet into the squads. Said she was the best analyst, that her skills were going to waste and that he needed an assistant. He had already talked to Barnaby Simmons about it. By September, she'd have become Jake's assistant. Then he was going to give her charge of one of the squads and, even if not officially, each squad would basically have their own analyst."

Sofía frowned.

"Bennet isn't Jake's replacement."

"Nope," Jubilee agreed.

"The mole is using her credencials, so she can't move to a different position."

"Yupe."

"Nicolas Wilkins is the one who made the choice," Sofía straightened herself on the bench. "But Barnaby Simmons is the one that gave the OK. So it's either one or the other."

"That's what I'm thinking too."

Sofía took a thoughtful bite. At least they had narrowed it down to two people… if there weren't any more scapegoats. Wilkins and Simmons, though, were the two highest ranks in the SPAD. Maybe it was time they talked to Valerie Cooper… but no. They needed more than circunstancial proof.

"I think we should warn Bennet," she told Jubilee. "She can keep an eye on him for us."

"I'm not sure we can trust her," Jubilee grumbled.

"What? Because she called us muties?" Sofía scoffed. "She was angry, Jubes. She just wanted to hit us where it hurts. Besides, she knows her fate depends on finding the mole. I'll call her."

She ate in silence for some time, then Jubilee got up, said she was heading back in, and Sofía remembered.

"Hey, have you heard from Laura?"

"Yeah," Jubilee shrugged. "She hasn't contacted them yet. Wants to snoop around first. She said she will probably knock on their door tomorrow, for a… what was her expression? A debriefing lunch. Anyway, I called the guys early in the morning so they know what time she'd get there and… the whole plan and stuff."

"Jubes…" Sofía could see the worry on her face. "Listen, they'll be fine. They're experienced fighters, they know what's coming their way… They can handle it. Especially with Laura by their side."

She could hear Jubilee's thoughts, though. What if they can't? What if something goes wrong?

"Gambit mentioned Rogue hasn't been well. She got a stomach bug or something."

So she'd be more vulnerable.

"Laura is there," Sofía insisted. "You've got to believe in what we're doing, Jubes. We're going to fix this and no one's going to be injured. Trust me."

* * *

Cecilia Reyes hated doing nothing or lazying about. She was a woman of action – though not violent action – a woman with goals, and plenty of energy to reach them. A woman who enjoyed being busy. Cecilia Reyes also enjoyed staying in bed late on the occasional Saturday.

When the phone rang that morning, she had just finished breakfast in bed. Hoping there was no emergency to ruin her morning of battery-charging relaxation, she picked it up.

"Ah'm _pregnant_!" Cecilia froze.

"Who's this?"

"It's _me_ , Cecilia! Rogue, Anna Marie. Did ya hear what Ah just said?!"

Oh. This was not good. Not good at all.

"What am Ah gonna do, Cecilia? What am Ah gonna _do_?!"

"First of all, I need you to take a deep breath. Can you do that?" She heard a couple of sniffs from the other side of the line as her mind started setting priorities "Are you still wearing the power inhibitors?"

" 'Course Ah am! They were inserted under my skin, remember?"

"Have you told anyone else?" Namely, the father.

"What? No! Ah'm tellin' _you_. Ya gotta help me, Cecilia! Ah'm goin' crazy here!"

Yes, she had noticed that.

"What do _you_ want to do?"

"Huh? What d'ya mean?"

She really wasn't thinking at all, was she?

"Look, you've a got a couple of choices here…"

" _Choices_?! Ah'm pregnant, Cecilia, what freakin' _choices_ do Ah have?"

"For instance, the choice to take the pregnancy full term or not. The choice of keeping the baby or not." Silence. "I admit there aren't many choices, but you do have those."

"Ya mean… kill my baby? Are ya freakin' _insane_! Ah'm not gonna kill no babies!"

Well, the most important decision had been taken.

"Listen to me, Anna. Since you've decided to take the pregnancy full term, the first thing you need is a medical examination and to start on prenatal vitamins, ok?"

"But… but Ah can't be pregnant, Cecilia. Ah _can't_! My powers!"

"Your powers are contained. They cannot harm the baby."

Or she wouldn't have gotten pregnant in the first place.

"Ah can't use power inhibitors fer the rest o'my life, Cecilia!"

"Good thing pregnancies don't last a lifetime." There was a choke and Cecilia carried on. "It's only nine months, Anna. Add six to twelve months for breastfeeding and it's not even two years of your life. You'll do _fine_."

"But if they _fail_!"

"They are _not_ going to fail."

"But…"

"No," she cut in. "You've panicked enough, Anna. You've vented enough. Now you're going to take a deep breath and face this situation the way you face every other crisis: with a cool head. Are you listening to me?"

There was a breathless yes after a few seconds of silence.

"Good. Who do you want to be your doctor through this, me or Hank?"

"Ah… Ah think…"

"Tell you what: I'm more used to following pregnancies than Hank is. I'll take this up for now and if you want to change later, I'm not going to be upset. Okay?"

"Okay," a small voice said from the other side and Cecilia felt bad for her.

"I know you're scared, Anna," though terrified was probably closer to the truth. "But you can do this. You're a strong, healthy woman and you're…"

A string of sobs shook through the line and Cecilia groaned.

"It's ok," she tried to soothe through the phone. "Everything's going to be ok. Listen, make yourself some tea and try to keep calm. I'm going to talk to Hank and tell him what is going on. I'll see if he can give me a lift on a jet and I'll be there with you in no time, ok? It'll be _fine_."

She didn't switch off immediately though, only when Anna sounded more composed did she say 'see you soon' and promptly phoned Hank. Of all the people to get accidentally pregnant!

"What a surprising call, Cecilia!" The usual chirpy voice resounded in her ears. "How can the humble McCoy be of assistance this beautiful Saturday morning?"

"There's a problem," she shot immediately. "Can you come and get me on a jet to take me to California?"

"California?"

"Yes, California. Oh, and bring power inhibitors." Just in case. "Bring about a dozen."

* * *

Remy knew something was wrong the moment he opened the door and saw Laura Kinney's expression as she stood by the kitchen table. It plainly said 'I don't want to be here – I'm way out of my comfort zone', and that was not an expression the little clone used, not even on a 'rarely' basis. Then he noticed Anna. Sitting at the table with a mug in front of her. Her eyes were reddish from crying and her face was a cross between despair and loss.

"Chere? Somet'in' wrong?"

"Laura, sugar," she sounded spent. "Thanks fer the company but… can ya go outside or somethin'? We… we need t'talk."

Her words and tone were ominous but Gambit couldn't even begin to guess what might be wrong.

"Of course," and the young woman hurried to the balcony, closing the window behind her and then skipping over the short wall. She was gone.

"Anna?" For some reason, he didn't come closer to her.

"Ah've taken a test," which didn't clarify anything. Test for what? "Ah'm pregnant."

Huh?

"What d'ya mean, pregnant?"

"Ah'm gonna have a baby."

His eyes slid down to her perfect waist and he shook his head.

"Have a baby?"

"That's what it means, bein' pregnant. It means ya're havin' a baby."

His eyes danced from her face to her taut stomach.

"Ouis, mais… how can ya…"

He meant how could she be having a baby if her body didn't look pregnant but then… something started to click inside his head. _Pregnant_?

"It was that weekend," she explained. "When I fergot t'take the pill. Two days in a row, remember?"

"But ya took de emergency one…"

"It ain't one hundred percent sure, ya know. Nothin' is."

He felt sick. Pregnant. With a baby.

"My…" He didn't finish it, which was a good thing - even he could see it. Had he said 'my baby?' out loud, there would have been blood.

"Remy needs a drink," he said, but he went to the balcony instead. He was having a bit of difficulty breathing.

A baby.

His baby.

Fuck.

He fished out a pack of cigarettes and lit one with trembling hands.

His mind was going round and round, trying to understand just what had happened. How could this situation get fixed. How…

Merde.

How do you fix a pregnancy? He took a desperate drag off the cigarette. You don't. I mean, you can but…

This could not be happening. Not to him. It just couldn't.

* * *

If you've enjoyed the chapter, please leave a review. Just let me know what you liked and disliked so I can keep improving my writing skills. Thank you.


	24. Getting Back on Your Feet

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters except my characters. Which are quite a few this time around. Let's try it this way: I don't own any Marvel characters that happen to show up in the upcoming chapters and which I'm sure you'll recognise without any need to name long lists.

* * *

 **24\. Getting Back on Your Feet**

Kate looked at the folders neatly organised in the cupboard and felt like crying again. She couldn't make herself get rid of all the material she had so carefully put together, so she had painstakingly reorganised everything.

Then she locked the cupboard and considered getting rid of the key. Her master plan. So carefully crafted, so meticulously researched. Waste of time and hope.

There was a knock on the door. Sofía Mantega. Bile came up to her throat but Kate was aware she needed the ex-muties to identify the mole they were looking for. The mole that had set her up as an escape goat. She swallowed her hate down and opened the door.

"Hi," Mantega said a bit awkwardly. "There have been developments. May I come in?"

Kate stepped away and let the other woman close the door.

"Have you heard about Jake Butterworth?"

Kate breathed out and kept her comments to herself. "Wilkins has already chosen a replacement. Linton Barrett."

"Yes, we know. Jubilee and I suspect he was killed by the mole," Sofía said.

For a moment she thought that, if the mole was trying to erase his tracks, killing his scapegoat meant she couldn't protest her innocence. That meant her life was in danger.

"Why do you think that?"

"May I sit down?"

The mix of worry for her life and the hate for the ones who had unfairly attacked her, who'd destroyed her dreams and ambitions, had her unable to restrain the acidic comments that all her life she'd learnt to hold back. She pointed at the sofa.

"If it's the only way you'll say anything," she grumbled. "Now why do you think the mole killed him? Were they working together? Is he cutting lose ends? What?"

"The mole is using your credentials. If you leave the analysis section, he won't be able to use you anymore."

"Yeah, so?"

"Jake went to Barnaby Simmons and requested you for his assistant." Kate felt a wave of vertigo and sat down next to Mantega. "Raymond Chase also requested you for replacing Jake. Instead, this Linton Barrett got chosen. Since Nicolas Wilkins is the one who makes the choices and Barnaby Simmons is the one who gives the OK to those choices, one of them has to be the mole."

Kate closed her eyes.

"Are you feeling OK?"

"Wilkins told me…" She forced herself to organise her thoughts. "He told me Butterworth was trying to get me in trouble because… I was doing my job too well, basically. He told me to avoid contacting Butterworth."

Wilkins was the mole. God, she felt sick!

"Simmons could have said yes to Jake and then given Wilkins a different story," Mantega said. "I don't want to repeat my mistake and rush for the obvious. We already did that with you and look how it turned out."

Yes, she was right; they had to be careful. But…

"Wilkins wants me to be his assistant." Mantega frowned and she clarified. "He wants me to be his assistant, don't you understand? If I become his assistant, I'm stuck there. For good. I can't even progress because… I'll only be able to progress to his position. That's the only career path I'll have and he'll be around for years. Decades!"

Mantega nodded. "He won't have to worry about losing his scapegoat ever again."

Kate rubbed her face.

"And Simmons never comes around! How would he get a hold of my password? Wilkins… Every day he paces about that office, checking what we're doing... with his phone. He usually goes about with his phone, texting or reading texts or whatever. He could easily have recorded me as I inserted my password without anyone noticing."

God! And to think she had actually believed he cared about her! How stupid could she get? Hadn't she been through enough shit to know what people are like? They are never nice unless they want to rip something away from you.

"OK, so he has to be the mole," Mantega got up and paced around. "We need evidence, though. We can't just go to Simmons without evidence."

Naïve much?

"What if Simmons is part of the conspiracy?" Kate pointed out. "Or what if he is waiting for enough shit to hit the fan to justify closing SPAD?"

Mantega breathed out a 'damn it'.

"Why don't you go straight to Valerie Cooper? She's the one who started this; she must know who is an ally and who isn't. She's the one who'll know how to kick out the mole without any scandals."

"You're right." Of course she was. "But we need evidence first. Can you do that?"

Kate frowned. Do what?

"Gather evidence against him," Mantega explained.

"How do you expect me to do that?"

The woman breathed out and sat down again. "First of all, keep track of his movements. Secondly… I've got a flashdisk. It creates a ghost user that allows you to move about the database incognito. I'll make sure you'll get one with a command line to identify all movements made under your credentials and, at the same time, which computer is used with those credentials."

It might work.

"Can you add a command line that identifies all the credentials used from his computer? Because he could be using more credentials, you know? To do other stuff."

Mantega nodded.

"Yes, that's good thinking. Let's do this, Kate." She frowned at the familiarity but said nothing. "Let's nail this asshole."

She could use the familiarity in her favour. This Mantega seemed interested in making up for Thursday's breaking in. Even if it was only for show.

"Yeah. We need to clean the house and optimise the procedures." Mantega smiled and Kate tried to do the same but… she had never been good at this fake smiling thing. "Don't forget one thing. Once this leak is fixed, we need to focus on creating a third squad. One that is centred on the West Coast. If SPAD is to be efficient and survive budget cuts and conspiracies, we need a squad on the West Coast. Full time."

Mantega's smile spread and she nodded vigorously. "We'll get there, Kate. One step at a time."

* * *

It was windy at the Rocky Point. Anna had climbed over the fence that led to the outlook to go up to the rocky extreme, a few feet before the outlook but, more importantly, a few feet above it. If she looked straight at the horizon, she could almost imagine herself to be flying. She missed that form of freedom.

There were a few people hiking up and down the pathway that led to the outlook, but the strong wind mostly blew their voices away.

She felt alone.

Anna embraced herself and closed her eyes, ignoring the tears that trickled down her face. It was the wind that was causing her eyes to cry, she told herself.

Cecilia and Hank would arrive in an hour or two, according to their plans. Apparently, they had needed some time to prepare everything that was to be brought although… although Anna didn't see why they couldn't just have come and picked her up. Because she was leaving, obviously. Remy had agreed, too. After the news had sunk in, he had told her she should leave. The mission was too dangerous, now. She could lose the baby. He had looked away when he had said that and she'd thought… was he having a hard time facing the idea – his baby – or was he ashamed of hoping she might lose it?

She had thought it too, though. What if she lost the baby? She was only 6 weeks along. What did people say? That you shouldn't announce pregnancies until the end of the third month because it was all too easy, too natural, to lose a baby until then? If she did lose it… no more problems, right? And yet… Ever since getting her powers, touching someone had been an impossible dream. Having a baby had never even been considered! Oh, who was she lying to? Of course she had thought about it! Of course she had looked at pregnant women, wondering what it felt like, afraid to touch them to share their happiness and harm the unborn babe, and all the while knowing she would never be able to experience it herself. And now… Now she could know what it felt like.

The idea of losing the baby, with its tragic but freeing appeal, felt more and more murderous with every passing minute. She must protect the baby. It must be born. It! He or she. They must be protected, her child. She couldn't help smiling at that thought. Her child!

"Sue Ann!"

She breathed out. As for Remy… Well, she had taken how long to make peace with the fact? God, Cecilia must think she was… It didn't matter. Remy just needed time to adjust to the idea. He'd be a good father. It might even make him less of a daredevil. He would start thinking about his child first and foremost. He'd probably start cutting his bonds to the guild too. He couldn't possibly want his child to be involved in that type of world, could he? Yes, that was it.

"Hey, Sue Ann!"

He'd come through. Once he heard his child's heart for the first time. No, she decided. It wouldn't be then. It would be when the child was born. When he picked his child up for the first time, that was when he was going to change. He'd be a daddy and his whole world would simply readjust itself around that new reality. He'd buck around during the pregnancy and she would have to be patient about it. She'd give him time. All the time in the world. Because once the child was born… everything, _every_ thing would change.

"SUE ANN!"

Anna took a deep breath. It was time to go back. She had to pack her stuff and… She laughed. She had to start thinking about baby clothes. She had to go shopping! And to think she had nearly had a nervous breakdown when she'd seen the pregnancy test! How ridiculous! It was the happiest day of her life.

She turned around and saw the couple waving hands.

"Hi, Sue Ann!"

The Garnets. Damn. And she was in a dangerous place on top of it. It just took putting a foot in the wrong place and she could plunge to her death. Her baby's death.

"Hi," she waved back as she started returning carefully.

What had she been thinking when she'd gone over the fence! Here she was, complaining about Remy's daredevil ways and what did she do? The same or worse! Careful now, careful. What if the Garnets decided it was the right spot to give her a little push?

Anna grabbed the fence securely and climbed over it.

"What were you doing up there? Isn't it dangerous?"

Anna didn't answer. Instead, she asked about them. Were they having a picnic? Yes, they had had one, earlier; now they were just strolling about, enjoying the views.

"And what about the beach party? Monday or Tuesday, what do you say?"

Anna opened her mouth to speak but no sound came out. "Not nine people," Jubilee's voice rang suddenly inside her head. "Nine families." Children. These people were murdering children. Babies. Like her own. She couldn't let it happen. She couldn't let these people get away with it, murdering babies. She was not going to run away from these murderers like a coward.

"Monday," she said a bit hoarsely. She was going to put an end to it, to them. Murderers of little children. "Let's do it on Monday."

* * *

Laura watched her from afar.

She was used to feeling out of place amidst people, but the last couple of hours had been particularly… awkward.

Jubilee had sent her to help locate and neutralise the mole's agents. She had been hopeful it meant a bit more action than dealing with Bennet. Now, though, Gambit had pressed her into bodyguard service with a level of anxiety matching Rogue's ongoing crying when she had arrived at the house.

She couldn't really understand what was causing all the emotions. She knew Gambit, for example, was someone with good emotional control, unlike Rogue, who was known for expressing her opinions and feelings rather freely. Obviously, she knew what was causing it: the pregnancy. She just didn't understand why a pregnancy, even if unplanned and in the middle of a mission, would cause such distress. Likewise, she didn't understand why both of them considered natural that Rogue aborted the mission. The pregnancy was obvious at an early stage, not visible and not yet diminishing the woman's skills. Of course she should avoid physical altercations that might involve blows to her abdomen but… the agents were bound to make a move any time. It was perfectly feasible to finish the assignment before the pregnancy caused a physical impact.

When Rogue (known as Sue Ann Garrarde by the locals) started walking away from the couple, Laura made up her mind. She allowed Rogue to see her, then stepped away from the path and the couple's line of sight. She didn't have to wait much.

"What are ya doin' here?"

She wasn't sharp, but she was far from warm.

"Gambit asked me to follow you, in case the agents attempted something against you. He seemed to be under the impression it was likely to happen."

Which was ridiculous. Laura was well aware of the MOs of the nine known attacks by these people; attacking Rogue alone was very much unlikely. Rogue nodded and breathed out. Laura could feel her nervousness.

"Ah can't leave," she said in an uncertain voice. "Ah can't let 'em get away an' kill more people."

Good, she was coming out of her emotional distress and looking at reality with a logical mind.

"If you leave," Laura added, just to make sure she fully overcame her initial decision of aborting, "the agents will move on to a new target. More people will be killed."

"Families," Rogue sighed. "Children. I owe this to them."

But then she sniffed, a tear trickled down her face, and Laura wasn't certain whether she was becoming less emotional or not. Rogue breathed out forcefully, causing a new scent to make Laura frown. Fear. Salty but intense.

Laura had worked with Rogue before, even if it wasn't a common occurrence. Nevertheless, she had never once seen her as fearful, quite the opposite. She was determinedly daring.

"Ah'm scared," she said in a low voice, both hands embracing her thin-as-always waist.

Laura decided it was best to remain silent in face of the admission.

"Ah can't lose this baby," she continued, more tears coming forth.

Ah! For a moment, Laura understood their eagerness to abort everything: Rogue must have a medical condition that made this a high-risk pregnancy. She couldn't quite see what it could be, though. Rogue striked her as healthy, and it was too early to identify multiple…

"It may be my only chance of ever…"

Only chance? Previous miscarriages, maybe, with a diagnose of probably never being able to carry a pregnancy full term. Yes, that would explain their emotional state. Laura frowned.

"But Ah can't let 'em get away," there was decision in her voice, even if her scent was wrapped in apprehension.

She could hear Gambit, just an hour ago: "Don't let anyt'in' happen t' her, ya hear me, Laura? _Any_ t'hin'!"

"Let's go back," Rogue said looking around herself and sighing.

She could hear Jubilee: "They're vulnerable; you have to protect them."

The woman moved slowly, anxious, and Laura thought this was turning into a difficult to manage mission, making sure both X-Men were safe. On top of it, Laura was aware that anxiety was not good in high-risk pregnancies, especially if there was a history of miscarriages, as she now believed must be the case. The unborn baby must be protected too, she decided. But at the cost of letting the agents go?

No. There must be another way. Perhaps setting up a trap… If it was well organised, Rogue's actual presence might not be needed after all. She just had to figure out how to create such a trap.

* * *

If you've enjoyed the chapter, please leave a review. Just let me know what you liked and disliked so I can keep improving my writing skills. Thank you.


	25. Facing the Music

Don't forget! As promised, today we have our weekly update and tomorrow the 'compensation' update.

* * *

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters except my characters. Which are quite a few this time around. Let's try it this way: I don't own any Marvel characters that happen to show up in the upcoming chapters and which I'm sure you'll recognise without any need to name long lists.

* * *

 **25\. Facing the Music**

Kate knocked on Wilikins's door. She still had her handbag, as she had gone straight for the big boss office the moment she'd arrived.

"Mr Wilkins?"

She wasn't smiling though. She felt too disgusted by everything to be able to smile.

"Yes, Kate?"

"I'm going to accept your offer," she said, walking up to his desk and sitting down, her handbag resting naturally on her lap. "Has the rookie arrived yet?"

The man frowned. "Is everything ok? You don't look happy."

Try to act like everything's ok, Sofía had told her. Just be your usual self, to the utmost. And have an excuse ready for anything anyone might notice out of the ordinary. That one piece of advice had been in case she wasn't capable of doing the double agent thing. Of being a flexible, competent agent. Only the bile that had been accumulating since Thursday evening would not go down. The frustration, the anger, the loathing…

"Private stuff," she said curtly before forcing herself to expand. "Got dumped."

Wilkins seemed taken aback. He even opened his mouth to say something but only managed a 'uh' and it hit Kate that she had never said the slightest thing about her private life before, not even parents or eventual siblings. Which meant her attempt to offer some context to 'private stuff' had just made her act out of the ordinary. Fuck it all to hell!

"Yeah, anyway," she added, feeling the bile on her throat ready to push through. If she had started acting oddly, she might as well keep it up. "People don't need to look happy to do their job."

He nodded, slowly overcoming his surprise. There was still bile on her throat and she sneered as she let it out. Meet the new Kate, Wilkins, she said to herself.

"The way I see it, Mr Wilkins," and she pulled the chair closer to the desk, enough so she could lean on it on an elbow. "The happier you are about your outside life, the lower your work productivity. And in the end, that _is_ what matters, isn't it? Doing your job right. So… the rookie? Sir."

He offered a sympathetic grin that churned her insides.

"Kyle Platt. He's dealing with some paperwork downstairs and should arrive shortly. In the meantime, security has already issued him his credentials, including a temporary password which is to be used only once and which only allows access to his analyst account details, not the database. He'll have access to the dabase once he creates the new password."

She _knew_. She was not stupid, was she? Which supposedly was why she'd been chosen for the instructor. But she nodded. Even as Wilkins kept babbling about the blasted _basics_ of her job. It just showed why he really wanted her for his assistant. It wasn't that he thought her capable and competent. He just wanted her credentials. Oh, how she _hated_ …

"And I believe that's all. Any questions?"

I am not the rookie, you asshole. "No, sir. Everything's under control."

Wilkins opened a drawer to get the rookie's credentials and she got up, bumping a knee against the too close desk and dropping her open bag.

"Damn it," she grumbled and pushed the chair away. "It's always the same sh…"

She started throwing the spilt contents back into her bag and, as she heard him close the drawer, she stuck a little black box into a port on the back of the computer.

"Sorry about that," she grumbled as she got up. "Forgot to close the bag."

Kate headed to her station with the new guy's credentials in her hand. She could feel nothing but contempt for the people who were already there. All of them. Especially Marsha Hillam. And she did make an effort to hide the grin as she noticed Marsha's unhappy face. Did someone get rid of your lover for your husband, she asked the woman mentally. Good for them.

The rookie came in just as Kate sat down. She spotted him immediately. A short guy with a common face. He looked around, obviously unfamiliar with the space and wondering where to go, but also very obviously not lost. He should be in his thirties, she guessed.

"Kyle Platt?"

The guy's head turned sharply to her. He might or might not have a degree of intelligence inside that head going prematurely bald, but he had sharp eyes. Determination. She'd have to be careful with him.

"You're with me, Platt. Come here."

The first thing to do was explaining how the credentials worked. The second thing was making sure he had a proper password following the proper protocols. They existed for a reason, even if their security goals could be circumvented. And if she was ever forced to really become Wilkins's assistant, she would make damn sure everyone in that analysis department followed the blasted protocol to the tiniest letter.

* * *

"Why didn't you tell us?"

Jubilee shrugged and leaned back on the chair, trying to act indifferent.

"We were investigating it. There was nothing to say."

Scott was still not happy though, nor was Emma, even if she had a slight grin. Jubilee knew that grin from her Generation X days. It meant she was pissed at her actions, but was also proud of her initiative.

"Who is he associated with?"

Jubilee shook her head. "No idea just yet. We'll know once the bomb goes off and we get a chance to interrogate him."

"It could be a new group," Emma pointed out. "Most anti-mutant groups are known because they welcome the publicity. But a group that keeps itself anonymous… _that_ is a very dangerous foe."

Tell her something new. Jubilee had gone over that hypothesis over and over again. Whatever or whoever was revealed as part of it – because Jubilee was betting this was a new goup, the Killer Moles – it would always be the tip of the iceberg.

"Anyway, if you guys could get Val Cooper in, we can work something out to take the guy down with minimum waves."

"Are you sure it's Nicolas Wilkins?"

Jubilee nodded. "We've got an agent working on getting the evidence as we speak, thanks to Pryde's Trojan flashdisks."

Kitty snorted. "Do you even know what 'Trojan' means? And you could have told me why you needed those disks. I was starting to get suspicious."

"Sorry. Need to know basis."

Scott sighed and sat down behind his desk.

"Are you sure you don't need our help with anything?"

Jubilee shook her head. "I've got everything under control."

She hoped.

"What we need from you is for you to keep focusing on the Purity Gangs. The moment Wilkins is out, we'll take all the info to Barnaby Simmons. With any luck, that break will help the scandal be overlooked."

Emma nodded. "It will be a big operation. We have at least three groups fully identified."

"Two," Scott corrected. "Remember we haven't identified all the members of the third group yet."

Two and a bunch of halves, Jubilee registered to herself.

"Listen, I got to go. I want to meet the new squad analyst."

But then she hesitated and decided to say it in public, no more of that need to know crap.

"Actually, Pryde, there was one thing you could help us with. I heard this rumour that some tech is adultering police report information as they insert it into the database. Could you look into it? But hush-hush, we don't want to make any waves before we clamp down on Wilkins. I really just want to have those asses lined up so I can deal with them immediately after the bomb goes off."

Kitty nodded and asked for any details she might have. There were almost a hundred techs, after all, and millions of files. Jubilee got a piece of paper out of her pocket.

"This is the ID. I've got evidence of at least three tampered files."

"I can get you a name in ten minutes," she grinned. "Finding more people, though, that'll be a matter for months."

"I'll wait outside," Jubilee said. "Got some messages to check."

She didn't, obviously. That was just an excuse, because there was still one thing she was holding back: her sitting ducks.

Jubilee had nearly blown that cover when she had come in, early in the morning, and come across Rogue in the kitchen. She had barely managed not to say anything. Before Emma could lead her out of the kitchen and into the office, though, Rogue had told no one in particular she was going to go to the den, because she needed to relax a bit. Was going to watch some TV. Have some _alone_ time. Stress on the word 'alone' included.

So Jubilee went outside, ignoring comments and banter, totally obsessed texting and stuff. The moment the coast was clear, she sneaked back in and slid into the den.

"Rogue? What the hell?!"

"Shush," Rogue frowned. "Listen an' do _not_ say a word, ya hear?"

Now she was getting worried. Seriously worried.

"Ah had t'abandon the mission," the Southerner swallowed and breathed out. "Ah'm pregnant."

Rogue shouldn't have worried about telling her to keep quiet. Jubilee couldn't have said a word even if she wanted; she was the literal poster child of speechlessness. She just stood there, mouth open. Rogue was pregnant? I mean, Rogue, _the_ Rogue was pregnant? The one whose powers sucked up the life out of anyone she touched. That Rogue?

"Don't ya tell no one, ya hear?" Jubilee shook her head, her mind still reeling over the news. "Hank an' Cecilia are the only ones who know about it. And Laura."

Woah there! Remy didn't know about it? But he was the father, right?

"Oh, an' they know about the mission too," Jubilee frowned. It finally occurred to her that, with Rogue gone, the agents were either willing to stick around indefinitely or… they'd give up their quarry. "Cecilia agreed ta replace me."

Huh? "What do you mean?"

"There's a beach party happenin' tonight. It'll be the perfect opportunity fer them t'attack us. But Ah'm in no condition ta risk nothin', ya know. So Cecilia agreed ta stay in my place. With an image inducer. Hank gave her his, the one he always carries with 'im. With her bio-field, she should be safe no matter what happens."

Jubilee nodded. Hell of a timing… She rubbed her face. It occurred to her she should say something.

"So…" The question was say what? "It goes down tonight. The whole thing, I mean."

Rogue nodded and sighed.

"And you… You're ok? I mean, with this… uh, thing… I mean… uh, baby thing."

Rogue nodded again and sighed, not looking up. Jubilee decided to give it a try.

"And… Gambit?"

She smiled fleetingly. That was a good sign.

"He's ok. We're both ok." She shrugged. "We weren't expectin' somethin' like this ta happen, ya know? We're both still processin' the news."

Right. Hell of a shock for the both of them, it must have been. No wonder Rogue wasn't telling anyone about it just yet; she probably didn't even know how to feel about it. I mean, waking up one day and discovering you're pregnant? Geez! Talk about nightmares. It gave Jubilee goosebumps just thinking about it.

"Jubes?" Ah! Saved from the awkwardness.

"I'm in the den!"

Then it hit her that Rogue would rather be alone and said bye, hurried out just in time to bump into Kitty.

"Oops, sorry about that. I was bugging Rogue but she's got a headache or something. Needs alone time."

They went out, the two of them, Kitty saying Rogue and Gambit must have had a really big fight. The usual. Well, probably worse than the usual but… Nothing new. Jubilee grinned. Nothing new? Ha! Incoming shock to all X-Men hitting the nearest theater in a couple of days or so. Don't miss it.

"Anyway, here's the guy you wanted: Kyle Platt. I'm going to try and think up an algorithm to make my life easier looking for more people doing the same but… the truth is, we need to compare the info in the database with the info in the police reports. That's the only way. Your people are much better positioned to detect any discrepancies. What I can, and will do, is think up a way of preventing this from happening in the future. Sorry."

Jubilee shrugged. She was expecting that anyway. Knowing the tech's name was already a big help.

"Now I got to go and meet this Linton guy. Let's see who our lil' mole chose for us, huh?"

* * *

If you've enjoyed the chapter, please leave a review. Just let me know what you liked and disliked so I can keep improving my writing skills. Thank you.


	26. Party Time

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters except my characters. Which are quite a few this time around. Let's try it this way: I don't own any Marvel characters that happen to show up in the upcoming chapters and which I'm sure you'll recognise without any need to name long lists.

* * *

 _Note: Muir Beach has a small section reserved for nudism. I've added a small path leaving from the nudism beach up to Sunset Way. It's a common thing to exist in similar environs in my home country, no matter what type of beach, so I figured locals wouldn't mind me setting up a pedestrian shortcut._

* * *

 **26\. Party Time**

Kate frowned at her handbag. Had that been her cell phone? Kyle Platt was working on the computer next to her and she hesitated. Should she go to the restroom to read the message? No, that would be suspicious. Everyone close enough must have heard the ring, after all. With an irritated sigh, she whisked the thing out of the bag and read the message with a purposefully annoyed frown.

"call me urgent SM"

Her angry breathing out was anything but forced. Just thinking of the ex-muties made her blood boil. Remembering her conversation with Wilkins, she got up with a "damn asshole" purposefully audible and turned towards the door.

"Problems?"

She glared at Kyle Platt.

"Mind your business! And I'll be checking what actions you took with those requests when I come back, so pay attention to _your_ job. Got it?"

Kate was aware that the entire office was watching her leave. Probably wondering what the hell had happened to her. Maybe about to ask eachother if her evil twin had taken over her life. Well, who knew? Maybe it had.

She waited until she was outside the building then she phoned Mantega.

"Hi, is the device in place?"

Obviously. "Yes, it is."

"Good. Listen: things are developing fast. We need evidence that Wilkins is the mole by 4pm."

And did she want a martini to go with it?

"What's going on?"

A sigh from the other side. "Do you remember the Garrarde file we asked you about? It's a trap. We got two people posing as decoys, and the mole deployed agents to orchestrate their death, as usual. They should attempt it today during a party, sometime between 4 and 5 pm, EST."

"I see. Your agents are going to catch his agents and Wilkins will know you're on to him." Unless they got killed. Whatever happened, though, it would be too soon. How the hell were they going to collect evidence on that deadline? "Do you always set your traps this skilfully?"

"Just pay attention, ok? See if he does or says anything out of the ordinary from 4pm onwards and let me know immediately. We've already contacted Valerie Cooper. We should be able to meet with her by lunch time."

Kate glanced at the watch. It was 10.36. She should be there for the meeting with Cooper. Damn them all to hell, muties, ex-muties and mutie hunters. _All_ of them.

"Yeah, yeah. What about that tech I told you about?" They better not think she was willing to be kicked into the background that easily. "Did Pryde get a name?"

"Yes, it's a Platt, Kyle."

Kate blanched. "Kyle Platt?"

"Do you know him?" Mantega asked.

What else did they do but ask _her_ for information? See if they for once gave it to her. Not if they could help it. I mean, they weren't even going to tell her the name! If she hadn't asked, she'd have been out of the picture.

"Why the hell didn't you tell me that sooner, Mantega? What the fuck are you and Lee playing at, huh? Platt is the replacement for Linton Barret, now that he's gone to New York."

"What?"

"I'm going back to my station," she grumbled before Mantega could say anything. "I need to keep an eye on Wilkins _and_ on that Platt asshole."

She was almost growling as she went back. Platt was probably charged with keeping an eye on her too. She entered the office and her eyes zeroed in on him. How on earth was she going to get incriminating evidence against Wilkins in less than six hours? Only if he decided to look for more targets today and Kate couldn't be at her computer for that.

Platt glanced cautiously at her as she sat down. How was she going to do this?

"This day is going from bad to worse," she grumbled. "Platt. Have you finished that request you were handling when I left?"

* * *

"Are you ready?"

Cecilia nodded seriously and switched on the image inducer. Gambit bit back his aggravation in order to grin charmingly at her, trying to boost her confidence.

The image inducer cast a holographic image over the black woman's true features, but it did nothing to disguise facial expressions or to spark the spirited exuberance of his Anna.

"Gimme a smile, chere," he instructed mildly, as if it were an unimportant detail. "Dat's it. A bit sassy, now."

She couldn't be further from the original. She lacked the grace, the confidence, the daring, the joie-de-vivre, the... everything!

"Remember ya ain't feelin' right yet," he instructed.

Cecilia rolled her eyes in annoyance, but even that couldn't be further from the sizzling annoyance that should have flowed over the pretty face. Amazing how it didn't look beautiful without that flame that was his Anna's.

"I know, Gambit," Cecilia grumbled. "And I will be as mute as a fish too. I _know_."

"Try t'immitate her accent," he breathed out, turning his back on Cecilia and on his attempt to lighten the situation. "Ya won't be able ta spend the entire party silent."

"Ah will do mah best," she spit back, the accent too thick. Fake. But then she sighed. "When ah we goin'?"

Still too fake. He pulled his hair back and went to the balcony. "Soon. Prob'ly best if we be late."

He went to the limit of the balcony and rested his weight on the rail. There was a cool breeze blowing from the ocean. What was he doing? All he wanted was to answer his phone and hear Hank's voice, cheerfully telling him it had been a mistake, that there was no baby on the way. Or maybe he should call Anna and she would tell him the good news. A scare, that's all. The pregnancy tests had come from a faulty batch. Or maybe… maybe she'd lose it. It would be a relief for her too, he was certain. A baby? What was she going to do with a baby? It was insane!

"Gambit?"

"Pierre!" He snapped, his stomach churning. Maybe he should say he'd caught the stomach bug too. Dieu if only it had been the damned stomach bug! "Ya need t' get used ta call me Pierre."

"Ok, Pierre. It's seven already. We'll be late enough if we leave the house now."

He rubbed a hand over his face, then he got a cigarette and lit it. Took a long calming draft that calmed nothing.

"Ten more minutes," he grumbled. "Let 'em start de thin'."

What was he going to do? He couldn't even imagine his Anna all… swollen up. He couldn't. He refused to! She'd lose it. She had to. But his gut tightened at that thought too. He rested his head on his hands. Why was this happening to him? Why?

He puffed on the cigarette and let out a shaky breath. And if she didn't lose it? Then what? He couldn't think about it. He wouldn't. He'd just focus on these mole agents and forget about the rest. Yeah, that's what he had to do. Only the mole agent thing would be wrapped tonight and then… Maybe Jubilee would fail to catch the mole. She kept saying that she had everything under control but… she was young, inexperienced. Yeah, she'd fail to catch the mole. And he, Gambit, would come out and offer to help her, no strings attached. Yeah, he'd do that. He didn't have to think about… He just needed a good reason to keep him busy and away from… Dieu! Why did he keep imagining his Anna disfigured by a pregnant belly? He rubbed the palms of his hands over his eyes, hard.

"Ten minutes past, sugah," Dieu, that fake accent was about to send him into a rage! "Quit stallin' an' let's go."

He threw the cigarette butt to the ground and stomped back into the house, got a jacket. The agents, he told himself. You need to focus on those good for nothing agents. Nothing else exists.

* * *

It was 4.15. Kate felt increasingly sick. Even Platt had dared to ask her if she felt ok. The party should have started fifteen minutes ago and she still hadn't come up with any... Shit! That was it. She grabbed her bag urgently and told Platt to keep working, that she just needed to make a phone call. She pretty much ran out of the office, the idea maturing eagerly, and had barely found a secluded splot before she was dialing Mantega's number.

"Do you have police contacts in any central state?"

"Bennet? Did something happen?"

"If you don't, get a telepath."

"What are you talking about?" And Kate couldn't hold back the almost growl at the girl's inability to see her plan.

"I've got a way to make Wilkins access the database, but I need you to find a way to have a police request sent, _right now_ , from any one of the central states." Her head was running at a thousand miles and she breathed out, looked around her. "Say that the police have just saved a young family of former mutants from whoever and that they are going to relocate to California, to the house of a friend or family member. Make it a young family too and… add that at least one of them is a known mutant. Or former mutant or whatever. Just make it look like a perfect two-in-one deal, ok?"

"Got it," the girl said over the line and Kate felt the adrenaline rush uplift her mood. She was going to nail the asshole and _that_ was how she was going to prove herself worthy of being a special agent. "But what do you want the police to request of SPAD? What you're saying is a simple police report."

Kate rolled her eyes at the girl's lack of imagination.

"Whatever," she hissed viciously as her mind jumped to a solution. "Say that the attacker is a former mutant who wants to get even about some shit that happened before M-Day and that he's on the run and they want someone to take the hassle off their hands. Use your imagination! And make sure these people aren't ghosts. Make sure the California one especially has financials and stuff. Use real people if you have to. Make sure they are perfect targets, not obvious bait, got it, Mantega?"

Kate ended the call without waiting for an answer and breathed out, composed herself. She went back and knocked on Wilkins's door.

"Sir? Can I have a word?"

The man seemed surprised by the interruption but not annoyed. He nodded her towards a chair and she closed the door softly.

"Uhm… I'd like to start by apoligising, sir." She waited for the guy to frown his confusion before looking at her hands and putting on her most repentant expression. "Today wasn't one of my best days, sir, and… I don't think… I _know_ I didn't teach Platt as well as I should. With your permission, I'd like to leave my station and sit by Platt and, basically, give him proper guidance."

Wilkins popped his knuckles and cleared his throat. Kate took it as a sign and looked eagerly up:

"I don't mean I'd leave my station completely unattended. I would simply tell the computer to place all requests that are not urgent on the backlog for me to deal with tomorrow morning. Of course, if an urgent request comes through, I'll handle it immediately."

The man smiled tersely. "I see no problem with your suggestion."

She smiled an unnecessary visible wave of relief before hesitating anew.

"If Platt is ok with it, would it be possible for the two of us to put in a couple of extra hours? I was planning to show him some cases we've had in the past. So that he can have a wide range of examples, I mean, types of situations, especially urgents ones, that can come up. He can take a few notes and, when he has to face similar cases, he'll have an idea of what to do instead of putting everything on hold and ask for help."

Wilkins shrugged. "If Platt is ok with it… I'll be staying in late myself."

Bet you are, and Kate forced the sneer out of her grateful-looking smile as she left the office. You just can't miss out on the chance I'm giving you, can you?

She was careful to be pleasant towards Platt when she returned to her desk. She even smiled at him.

"I've got good news," she said. "I'm going to sit by you and hold your hand every step of each request you get. Now don't think I'll be doing your job for you; it just means I'll be able to pay more attention to your decisions and therefore give you better… training."

His grin of acquiescence showed he clearly didn't welcome the change.

"I also have bad news… especially because you won't have a say in it. Sorry. Rookie lack of privileges: but we've all been there; you're not alone." She was vaguely aware she was dripping sarcasm but she couldn't hold it back. It felt so amazingly good, for once, to be the one in the position – and with the power – to bully an asshole. "Anyway, we'll be putting in a couple of extra hours today. If there's a Mrs or would-be-Mrs, you may want to warn her you don't exactly have a set leaving time today."

* * *

Cecilia, still hidden underneath the holographic image of Anna Marie, was doing her best not to call anyone's attention to herself. Especially the people who knew Sue Ann the best. She was sitting on a log, watching the fire burning and holding a plastic bottle of some fizzy drink. The sun hadn't set yet, but it was getting nearer the horizon. For now, it was simply hidden behind the rocky outcrop where the Garrarde's house stood, casting a long, cool shadow over the sandy expanse.

Gambit, or Pierre, as Cecilia must think of him, was on a wild streak. He laughed, and danced, and joked, and flirted shamelessly. He was drinking heavily too. Cecilia knew perfectly well Anna's pregnancy was behind the fireworks. She sighed. She would have wished Anna to have a better man by her side through this ordeal. Because, let's face it, even the easiest pregnancy has moments when it's more of an ordeal than a wonder, and she wasn't thinking only about the birth. Gambit was very obviously the wong man for the job.

She sighed and glanced at the bottle. Natalie had brought her the drink and Cecilia had been pretending she was drinking but was instead slowly pouring it into a little hole she'd dug up in the sand. Despite the shadow that greyed the strand, there was still plenty of light and, with all the people that had showed up, Cecilia couldn't imagine how the agents would try to kill them. The only thing she could think of was poisoning, or just spiking their drinks or food. Thankfully, the supposed stomach bug gave her a good excuse to avoid food, even if that didn't stop Natalie of swinging by her with sandwiches, chicken nuggets and doughnuts.

Shortly after the sun set, they'd have to clear the beach. The police often did a tour of the premises about one or two hours after sunset, once the light was fully gone, to make sure everyone had left the area. Cecilia decided that, if they were to try something less dissimulated, it would be in that period of growing darkness, maybe just before the police came in.

She once more scanned the crowd. Anna had given her details about the people she had made friends with and they all seemed to be acting normally, having fun. The Garnets, on the other hand, were clearly fueling the fun, prodding the other couples into drinking more, dancing more, eating more. They were setting the stage. She could only hope that Gambit had noticed their actions and that his blind partying was a ruse to convince the pair of agents everything was going according to their plan.

She was finishing the crowd scan when her eyes fell on Katie Brook and Belinda Easom. The latter seemed to be speaking sternly and got up abruptly, leaving Katie… crying, apparently.

Anna had told Cecilia of her faux pas, that the couple probably thought she was a homophobe and decided that, since she wasn't doing anything and that the couple hadn't really talked to Sue Ann much, they might not realise she wasn't Sue Ann. She got up and walked towards the upset woman. She was a couple of steps away when she got up as if to leave and then stopped abruptly, looking at Sue Ann like a doe caught on flashlights.

"Everythin' ok, sugah?"

The woman put a hand over her mouth and looked on the verge of bursting into tears. She shook her head and managed a choked "I need to walk". But she didn't take a step away.

Cecilia felt bad for the woman. She glanced at her watch: 8.04. The sunset was half an hour away. There was time.

"Come on, sugah. Ah'll keep yah company."

* * *

It was 5.08 and everyone had left the office to the exception of Kate, Platt and Wilkins. Kate was doing her best to take it easy on the guy, making up for her unashamed bullying throughout the day. It was in poor taste, anyway. She decided that proper bullying of deserving assholes should be done with finesse. She just needed to improve that finesse.

"Aren't you facilitating a bit too much?"

Platt breathed out tersely, trying to disguise his irritation.

"This woman is a _possible_ witness to a shooting in her neighbourhood," he said in a carefully even voice. "The police don't even need to know she's in the database."

"You'll never be working on your own at this pace," she sighed. "You don't take sides here; you check _all_ the data. How many times do I have to say that? Now get the names of the suspect shooters and run them. Then, start a general query for the neighborhood and find out all the people in the area that are in the database. When you have a list of all the names, check if they were involved in shootings or…

"I'm sorry to interrupt, Kyle," the computer informed them. "But you have a top priority police request. Would you like me to put the current request – LYP003649 reference: Fells, Lyanne – on hold?"

Kate swallowed down the surge of victory and snarked a "yes, you _always_ put everything on hold for priority requests".

Platt didn't even say anything. He just clicked the 'yes, please' button.

Request JVF002463. Whittemore, Leighton; married to Whittemore, Tiara; maiden name Kennerley; parents of Larissa, 5 years old, and Will, 2 years old. Family home was broken into and there was an attempt to set it on fire. The assailant escaped. Whittemore, Leighton named Norton, Clive as the culprit. Claimed the man, his former friend, holds a grudge against him and his family because, five or six years ago, Norton wanted to join a mutant association and Whittemore not only refused to follow suit but cut all connections to Norton and moved state. Norton's powers were referred to consist of being able to breathe under water. Whittemore admitted to being a former mutant, his powers consisting of an extraordinay visual acuity, akin to an eagle's. Whittemore hadn't heard from Norton since. Norton has gone missing. Whittemore fears another attempt on their lives and wishes to move in with a sister in California. It is unknown if the suspect has retained his powers after M-Day.

"So… your very first priority request. What do you do?"

"I can run the names of everyone in the family plus the Clive Norton guy," he said, thoughtfully. "But I guess this is probably something the squads should be informed of."

Kate smiled, fairly aware of its nasty nature. "What are you waiting for?"

There would be no previous information on any of these people in the SPAD database, obviously, but if Mantega had done her job right, there would be hints elsewhere to make this family into an attractive target. Kate told Platt to use other federal resources to collect as much information as possible on the extended Whittemore and Norton families.

"Make a particular thorough search concerning this sister in California. In fact, start with her. I want to know everything about these people: check addresses, financials, everything."

* * *

Cecilia was worried. She hadn't expected to wander this far from the party but Katie Brook kept walking, sniffing and baring her heart with each step. Katie walked up to the rocky area that separated the main beach from the small nudist beach, and stopped, closing her eyes and cleaning her tear streaked face. Cecilia took the moment to glance at her watch: 8.14. She really needed to get back. The Gardners could make their move any time!

Cecilia sighed and looked back. They were only about 300 yards away, but it might as well be 300 miles: no one would notice them over here, at the other end of the beach. The sun was completely hidden by the rocky outcrop where Rogue and Gambit's house stood, straight ahead, and the sounds of the party were drowned by the gentle drowsiness of the small breaking waves that nearly lapped at their feet.

"Maybe we should get back, Katie," Cecilia said softly.

The woman nodded and reached for the little handbag, mentioning a tissue. Cecilia watched her back as she ransacked the tiny thing, her sniffs threatening to turn into sobs. She came closer and embraced her gently.

"It'll be ok," she offered.

The woman turned around, her head snuggling onto Cecilia's shoulder, her wet cheek coming to rest against Cecilia's neck.

"It'll all be ok."

It was then the needle stung her ribcage, her bio-field coming up a second too late.

* * *

At 5.16, Kate was knocking at Wilkins's office door.

"Sir, we've got a case for the squads. There's a guy on the run, a Clive Norton, either mutant or former, who tried to kill an entire family. They're going to move in with a family member in California. Platt ran a general background check and, apparently, this family member is a Lisa Whittemore who is involved in pro-mutant rallies, some of which turn violent. She's been arrested twice and we have a file on her. I'm going to warn Linton to get a squad going to help search for the Norton runaway. But I'd like your permission to tell Linton to investigate this Lisa woman. If she's involved in violent demonstrations, it may turn out problematic."

Kate knew exactly what Wilkins was going to answer: sic the squads on the Norton guy and drop the woman.

"The woman is none of our concern," Bingo. "Inform Barret."

Leaving the office door purposefully open, Kate started walking towards Platt.

"It's your show, Platt. Make the phone call!" She sat on his desk and sighed, careful not to let her eyes drift to Wilkins's office. "It's getting late. What do you say we take ten and go get a coffee and a sandwich, huh? There's nothing like a little break to refresh your brain for another hour of work."

* * *

"Pierre," Gambit turned to look at the woman. Melinda or something. The one who wore the pants in that lesbian couple Anna had befriended. "Can I have a word with you?"

"Bien sur," he grinned, slapping Robbie's back and accepting Morton Garnet's drink before stepping away from the dance floor.

"Hey, Belinda," someone called out as they walked a bit further away. "We'll be counting on you and Rosie to show up for the Fourth of July!"

"Yeah, yeah," the woman raised a hand. "Count us in."

The Garnets had started the whole idea for the Fourth of July on the beach. Were going to mention it at the Inn and get licenses for it. They were thinking about filling the whole sand expanse with people.

"If we're still together then," she grumbled between her teeth.

Gambit stopped walking and frowned to organise his ideas. He had drunk a bit more than he should have but, once the Gardners had started organising the party for next Thursday, in just four days, it was obvious they were aiming at doing the deed then rather than tonight. Kicking up a deadly accident amidst one hundred people is far easier than amidst ten people.

"Somethin' wrong," he asked the woman.

His eyes unwittingly took in the fiery colour the ocean had taken beyond the shadow of the large rocky outcrop. Sunset. This whole party mess would be over in an hour, Dieu merci.

"I understand there is a path from the nudist beach up till the area where your house is?"

"Oui," he shrugged.

"Well… Katie and I, we kind of had a row and uh… I saw Sue Ann keeping her company and going down the beach so… I thought, I don't know, maybe Sue Ann took Katie up to your house?"

Gambit laughed out loud, the alcohol in his blood undoing whatever restraint he would normally have resorted to in this situation. The woman was afraid her jilted lover had seduced Cecilia into a thryst up at the house! It was so funny, he actually had tears come up to his eyes.

"Uh… Or, I don't know, maybe they… uh…"

But Gambit stopped her, throwing a hand over her shoulder.

"Pardonne moi," he said in between chuckles. "Mais, allons! Peutêtre notre dames, dey be havin' a private picnic at de nudist beach, non? We can crash deir petit fête."

He was still trying to hold back his laughter as they crossed the Redwood Creek that emptied into the waveless sea tonight. But as he got back on dry sand and he looked back, his eyes falling on the cheerfulness of the party on the other end of the beach, his heart became suddenly heavy and his mirth withered into bitterness.

"Come on," the woman urged him at his side, so he shook his head, took a strained sip from the beer bottle, hopelessly longing for the alcoholic mirth of a minute ago, and carried…

A body sprawled on the surf.

Gambit froze. It wasn't the Garnets. _It wasn't the Garnets!_

The woman by his side!

Gambit spun urgently, ready to fend an attack… and saw Laura holding her blades by the woman's neck.

"Cecilia has been drugged," the little clone informed. Her eyes shone greenishly in the twilight. "But I do not believe her life to be in danger."

He glanced at the body. "An' dat…"

"That is the woman posing as Katie Brooks." Gambit felt dizzy. "She tried to fight back."

He looked at Laura and forced himself to act, to help restrain the caught agent. Not that she seemed to be interested in any help. She was holding a plastic restraint and quickly applied it around the woman's wrists, behind her back.

"I will take her to the house and begin the interrogation," Laura said. "You should check on Cecilia. She's over there, behind those rocks, by the trees. Then go back to the party to create a cover story for the early leaving of everyone involved."

Gambit nodded and glanced about. His eyes focused on the mentioned tree but quickly moved on to the body whose hair and skirt floated tenderly on the gentle ebb and flow of the surf. He went over and knelt besides it. No blood. Laura had probably broken her neck.

Never in a million years would he have suspected them. Stupid. He had failed in every way: with Anna, with Cecilia, with Jubilee… if it hadn't been for Laura!

Gambit got up and walked straight into the sea, its freezing waters biting his feet and shins. He walked till the water was almost kissing his knees and he could barely feel his toes. He collected water in his hands and washed his face. How could he have been so stupid? The anguish he had been fighting since Saturday burst through his groggy defences, its strength doubled, and he fell to his knees. He could have killed Cecilia tonight! His hands plunged into the icy water and supported him, the fingers clawing through the coarse sand, the occasional gravel scratching his skin. Dieu, he could have… He dunked his head beneath the surface and allowed its airless chilliness to bite the alcohol out of his system and sober him up. What _had_ possessed him to drink that much tonight?

When he returned to the sand, Laura was eyeing him suspiciously. Gambit paid her little attention, though. He took a few deep breaths and, feeling his stomach heavy and cold, put two fingers down his throat and forced everything out. That needed another walk into the ocean to wash his mouth and face one last time.

Gambit's toes were so numb they hurt, when he finally crouched by Cecilia. Laura was gone now, marching her captive down the nudist beach, on the other side of the rocky bottleneck. The image inducer was still on but Gambit didn't switch it off. Take a good look at her, his mind speared him. It could be Anna, you coward ass. It could be Anna dead because of your stupidity. Anna. He didn't want to think about Anna. Thinking about her meant thinking about… he couldn't do that.

He checked her breathing, her heartbeat. Cecilia looking like Anna.

Take a good look at her, capon.

Steady, both breathing and heartbeat. The idea must have been to feign a drowning. Gambit would have seen her floating, go after her and be drowned too.

Hist heart spasmed painfully. Oh, Anna…

He sniffed himself into an active mindset and got abruptly up. Started marching towards the fire at the other end of the beach. His toes were still numb, though less painful. It was wrong. They should feel more painful. More and more. That would teach him to worry about those who depended on him instead of gambling the lives of friends and… gambling lives on his whims and impulses.

When he stopped, everyone was looking at him. His breath was perhaps a bit laboured and he grinned, opened up his arms so everyone could take a good look at his wet clothes, clinging icily at his skin. It should have been windy tonight. Cold. Piercingly cold. Teach him to…

"Pierre, what happened?"

He had no idea who had spoken. You're drunk! And he chuckled grimly. Not even the cold and throwing up had managed to sober him. A drunken coward running away from mistakes no one could undo.

"De sea," he slurred, "it is too cold fer swimmin' t'night. I b'lieve it is time t'say my 'adieu' t'ye all… an' get me a hot bath."

There was laughter after that. Some. He couldn't care. Mock, pity, judge all you want. No one could do it better than him, could they?

He turned his back and wobbled back to Cecilia.

He felt broken.

Empty.

He had tried so hard to get his Anna to accept the power inhibitor as the solution to their problems. And for what? It had only created a problem even more unsurmountable.

Gambit fell to his knees heavily by Cecilia's side. He had no strength, physical or emotional, to pick the sleeping woman and carry her up the steep hill to the house. So he snuggled by her side, embracing her and half-pretending he could believe he was holding his Anna.

"Je suis desolé," he whispered. "Ma cher, mon Coeur, mon âme…"

He had never meant to harm her. And he had honestly believed… honestly hoped that his penance was over and he could have a chance at happiness. But it wasn't, was it? It would never be. And it hurt, it truly hurt, that his pain had to be visited on the woman he loved.

"Let _me_ be de only t'suffer, mon Dieu," he prayed, eyes closed, the warmth of Anna-Cecilia's body comforting his anguish.

A fleeting idea that he would be the only suffering crossed his mind. Fleetingly, he saw Anna finding comfort and happiness in the being growing inside her. Fleetness, the idea. Gone, his Anna. Forevermore alone in the glacial dark, embracing a sweet warmth that could not pierce through his agony.

* * *

If you've enjoyed the chapter, please leave a review. Just let me know what you liked and disliked so I can keep improving my writing skills. Thank you.


	27. Fall-out

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters except my characters. Which are quite a few this time around. Let's try it this way: I don't own any Marvel characters that happen to show up in the upcoming chapters and which I'm sure you'll recognise without any need to name long lists.

* * *

 **27\. Fall-out**

A phone rang.

"Hello," Wilkins said.

"…vening," a female voice became suddenly audible. It seemed breathless but it also sounded slightly metallic.

"It would be if it weren't so hot," he responded. "Report?"

"Something went wrong," the voice had stabilised into a low, definitely breathless register. "Alpha and Beta haven't contacted us; we haven't seen target B since the operation started but target A returned unexpectedly. He was clearly drunk so we hadn't expected him to pose any difficulties but then he showed back up, obviously pretending everything was ok and just to give an excuse for his departure... We've tried contacting Alpha and Beta but got no response. We will investigate as soon as possible but this _could_ be a trap, sir."

Wilkins breathed in and was silent for a moment.

"Proceed with the greatest precaution," he said before hanging up.

A sigh reverberated, a light scratchy sound of something being picked up, being put down again.

"My dear God…" A shivered sigh. "We all knew. We all knew."

Finally, he dialled a number.

They could hear the beep-beep and then a deep, male voice. "Yes?"

"The centre cannot hol..."

The stillness of the room was shattered by Katy Perry's firework at that precise moment. Shit. Should have switched the sound off and left it on the vibration. Jubilee didn't even have time to say 'sorry, sorry' as she promptly answered her burner phone, aware of Val Cooper's glare and Pryde's shaking head as her hands adjusted the audio being received from Wilkins's office.

"The two agents are dead," Laura's voice was even and Jubilee, clamping a hand over her left ear, thought she could hear the breaking of waves. "I…

"There are more agents," Jubilee cut in. "At least two more. They've just contacted Wilkins."

Jubilee glanced about her. Barnaby Simmons, sitting at his desk, looked somberly pissed. Val Cooper was on the edge, itching to act.

"Listen, the agents are going to investigate what happened, why aren't all targets dead. See if you can catch them alive, ok? _Alive_!"

Kitty Pryde, sitting opposite Simmons and working at two computer laptops set on his desk, was now working on identifying the last number Wilkins had called.

"So?" Val Cooper prompted.

"Two of the agents are dead. Didn't have time for more details."

"It's not important," Val said. "We're about to catch the one who matters most."

"No," Barnaby said, massaging his forehead. "No, I think it's best if we wait. Your undercover agents should face Wilkins's anytime, and I'd rather start the interrogation with an ace up my sleeve."

"That last call," Val countered, "was an 'abort' message."

Simmons shrugged. "I'm still the one who decides when to move in, Ms Cooper. And I just said we wait until Wilkins's agents are apprehended."

Jubilee glanced at Sofía and toughened her poker face. If Simmons wanted to stall, perhaps he was in charge of making the SPAD look inefficient. That meant he was Jubilee's next target in her personal crusade. He'd either have to be kicked out or wrestled into accepting Jubilee's suggestions of improvement.

* * *

Laura put the phone away with a frown and glanced at the woman at her feet. The so-called Belinda Easom was not a large woman. Tall, true, but thin and not particularly muscular. Fit, if anything. Nevertheless, she had managed to break the plastic restraint with an ease that heralded super-human strength. She had also been a skilled fighter, striking with deadly accuracy. If the other two agents were anything like her…

Laura hurried down the steep hill, bypassing the shortcut's many zigzagging turns. Gambit was drunk and unfocused; Cecilia was still unconscious. Both were very much vulnerable.

Running through the short sand stretch, she finally saw them, the agents. Less than forty yards away from her, and some sixty feet from Cecilia's hiding spot. She pushed herself harder, leaping onto a large rock. The couple saw her then. The Gardners. For a moment, both Laura and the agents glanced towards the trees, to where Gambit was curled up next to the inanimate Cecilia.

Laura hesitated for a single second, not understanding why the man had lain by Cecilia. Drunkenness explained it, though, and she lunged forward.

The man came forth to meet her as the woman headed for her prey. Laura decided that she could not waste time. She must assume this man was as skilled as the Belinda woman, maybe even more, and definitely stronger. She must assume that he could block all of her non-deadly strikes and most of the deadly ones too. Her first movement was, therefore, a simple and ineffective punch, allowing the man, bigger than her, to grab her arm. Her next move was to extend her blades and cut off both his hands.

Laura did not bother to evaluate the man's reaction. It sufficed that he had not screamed, just gasped in shock, and, as she ran after the woman, it sufficed that she could not hear him attempting to follow her.

"X-23!"

Laura clencled her teeth but did not stop. She should have cut his throat, to stop him from warning his partner. Well, she'd remember that next time.

The woman glanced over her shoulder at the yell, and, thankfully, Gambit moved. Just in time: the woman plunged a knife but Gambit was able to grab the weapon and, the next moment, Laura had tackled her away from her targets.

"Damn you and your creators, you genetic monster!"

This was the last of the agents, unless the male resisted the hemorrhage. She must be careful not to kill her. Laura read the woman's posture, her grip on the knife. Gambit was bleeding, just a few feet behind her. Too close for comfort. The most expedite approach was to allow the woman to stab her in order to gain enough proximity to break both her arms. The woman's arms tensed, ready to attack, so Laura got ready to take the blow and… Wait, her legs did not tense in preparation for the attack. Laura understood what that meant a moment too late to stop her: she slashed her own throat.

No.

Laura sprinted towards the male, intent on stopping the bleeding and saving his life for interrogation but, again, it was too late. His body was face down amidst the breaking surf.

Laura's blades slid out angrily. She had just failed half her mission.

Gambit grunted, getting her attention. He was bleeding, too. She started walking towards him, anger still sizzling in her veins.

She would have handled the whole thing better if she had been working on her own. She'd have abducted the suspected agents, forced them to talk and prevented them from commiting suicide. If only she'd been working by herself!

Laura crouched by Gambit's side. The blade had slashed through his left arm's triceps and a small portion of the deltoid muscle; no danger to any artery. But the palm of his right hand, which he had used to try and wrestle the blade from his attacker, might be described as mangled. Nevertheless, it wasn't a dangerous wound.

She got her cell phone and dialled.

"Jubilee? The agents killed themselves before I could apprehend them. Gambit is wounded and Cecilia is in a drug induced coma. I'd suggest putting together an extraction team to deal with the bodies and to provide medical assistance to the injured."

* * *

Kate had noticed something was wrong when Wilkins left his office and walked up to the large windows. He stood there for some five minutes, then sighed and turned to them.

"It's a beautiful evening," he said hoarsely. Kate was aware that Platt tensed up at those words. "Go home. It's late. Too late. Go home to your families."

He knew, Kate was certain. He knew he had been caught.

As Wilkins headed back to his office, Platt got up abruptly and grabbed his coat.

"Hey," she called. "You need to log out!"

But the guy didn't even turn to answer. He just said "Mr Wilkins told us to leave" and the next moment he was out of the door.

Kate hesitated. Platt was trying to escape capture. What should she do? Give chase? She was supposed to keep an eye on Wilkins.

She got up and approached the office gingerly. He was talking on the phone. She tried to eavesdrop but could only catch meaningless murmurs. She wondered if she should knock. Took a step back. Decided to… Footsteps. Kate looked back and saw the group approaching: Dr. Valerie Cooper, Mr. Barnaby Simmons, Jubilee, Sofía.

Kate stepped out of their way. Dr Cooper was a towering woman who oozed authority, and she didn't even spare a glance at Kate as she stormed into the office.

"Ah," she heard Wilkins. "I have to go now, my love. Good bye."

Kate grabbed Jubilee's arm before she could enter the office. "Platt took off."

Jubilee nodded then shook herself free and entered. Feeling invisible, Kate followed them inside.

"It's all up, Wilkins," Dr. Cooper bent down and took the little black device Kate had inserted on the back of the computer that same morning. Dropped it on his desk. "We have all the proof we need of your private research… and we have your Muir Beach agents."

Kate noticed the light frown that ebbed and flowed. He smiled a tired sneer.

"Who are you working for?" Simmons asked.

Wilkins picked up a wooden photo frame he kept on his desk. "I work for my family, Barnaby. Isn't that who every man should be working for? Sacrificing himself for?"

Kate noticed he was pale, his forehead shining sweatily in the light of the early evening.

"I'm pretty certain your wife and children didn't ask you to kill tens of people," Dr. Cooper put her hands on the desk and leaned over. "Or did they?"

Wilkins's reddish eyes did not leave the photo. Loving, sorrowful. A twitch spasmed fleetingly the left corner of his mouth and he grasped the frame harder, a hand solidly on each side of it.

"Their future," his croaking voice slurred. "Their future demanded it."

"Something's wrong," Jubilee said.

Kate's eyes widened as the man fell suddenly onto his desk, his hands clutching the photo desperately against his lower body. He was dying!

Dr Cooper and Mr Simmons cursed and ran to his side, called for medical assistance, one undoing his tie while the other laid him out on the carpeted floor. Jubilee and Sofía were ransacking paper baskets and drawers for clues about the poison he must have taken. Kate remained frozen, by the door.

Nicolas Wilkins, tears trickling down his waxen cheeks, held his family's photo desperately, his fingers like twisting claws, against his stomach. His head started bobbing lightly as this throaty, wheezing sound underlined the curses pronounced one after the other in the office. And then his body relaxed.

Mr Simmons said something and Dr Cooper grunted one last curse.

The frame was still clutched in his hands. There was a bit of blood where the glass had broken and pierced the fingertips.

* * *

If you've enjoyed the chapter, please leave a review. Just let me know what you liked and disliked so I can keep improving my writing skills. Thank you.


	28. Tying Loose Ends

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters except my characters. Which are quite a few this time around. Let's try it this way: I don't own any Marvel characters that happen to show up in the upcoming chapters and which I'm sure you'll recognise without any need to name long lists.

* * *

 **28\. Tying Loose Ends**

" _Wolvie_!" Jubes yelled the moment Logan reached the doorway. "Welcome back!"

He sneered. "Shouldn't _I_ be welcomin' _you_ back?"

That got him a tongue out and a predictable "shut up and sit down to hear the news". He let his eyes go over the smiling Rogue, sitting on the sofa while nibbling on grapes. He'd have had no idea if Frost hadn't given him the heads up at his arrival.

"I already kn…"

"Then sit down and _really_ shut up 'cause Rogue doesn't know the news and I don't want you giving her no spoilers. So, as I was saying…"

Ah, she must be talking about the SPAD mole. He obeyed and breathed in deeply as he sat down. There was a slight difference in Rogue's scent, true, but he doubted he'd ever have guessed why. He might not even have noticed it immediately.

"… and Simmons presented this nerdy looking old-geezer – Jim Phelps – and said he's to be head analyst. Just like that, no warning, no nothing. I mean, he didn't even bother to tell us his background!"

Logan gave his attention back to Jubilee. He didn't know much beyond the fact that Jubilee had flushed the mole, who had ended up killing himself and left everyone in the dark.

"So Sofía and I cut in and said _Kate_ should be the new head analyst."

Granted Logan didn't know that many people within the SPAD organisation, but he thought he knew everyone Jubilee dealt with on a regular basis.

"Who's this Kate?"

Jubilee's head whipped at him with the force of a 'hello, duh!'.

"She's the analyst we thought was the mole because the real mole had set her up as his scapegoat?"

"Right. And who was the mole afterall?"

Jubilee shook her head. "Didn't you say you _knew_ the news?"

He lifted a thumb towards Rogue but didn't get around to clearing the misunderstanding as Jubilee plowed on: "It was Wilkins! You know, the head analyst that the Phelps geek came to replace? Next you're going to tell me you don't even know he offed himself with this unknown poison that's so unknown even the FBI called it quits and then asked Beast to study it, but even _Hank_ has never seen anything like it, huh?"

"Actually, Hank was hoping I could check if Viper is selling unknown poisons to unknown anti-mutant parties." Of course Hank hadn't explained the origin of the poison he was investigating.

"Anyway," Jubilee carried on, stealing a bunch of grapes from Rogue's tray. "Sofía and I really made a case for Kate being given the place 'cause she deserves it. I mean, she's the bitch type and she's got this poker face that makes it look like she's ready to slit your throat, but she knows what she's doing. You gotta remember she's the one who uncovered proof that someone is setting SPAD up for crippling budget-cuts in the maybe-not-so-distant future. But Raymond was all 'Jake said…"

She looked at Rogue: "You know Jake, right? Jake Butterworth? He was the squads' analyst till Wilkins had him killed last week? So, Raymond was all 'Jake wanted Kate as his assistant and I had already requested her for his replacement and gotten a good for nothing lazy ass instead' and Simmons was all 'she is yours' and _that_ was the end of it."

Jubilee flopped back with a sigh and plopped a grape into her mouth, which, naturally, didn't keep her from mumbling that Kate had better be grateful for their efforts, trying to get her to become head analyst, and call it even. Logan decided he didn't want to know what grudge there might be for this unsuccessful effort to smooth over.

"Anyway, we now have our eyes on Barnaby Simmons. There's a good chance he might be trying to make SPAD look inefficient but if – only _if_ ; we got no real evidence so far – if that's true, he's being smart about it. Sofía and I said there should be a third squad based on the West Coast and he said that he can't get us a third squad, but he can dispatch Sofía's squad to the golden state."

She plopped another grape.

"Well, congratulations on yer successful mole hunt," Logan said, grinning in advance as the girl made an unsolemn victory sign. "And congratulations on yer new wardrobe, too. Frost said ya've finally asked fer a dozen suits in our uniform fabric."

"Yeah," she grumbled, "Frost sure has a big mouth. And I asked for a couple, not… she said _a_ _dozen_?"

Logan grinned and got a hand in his jacket, looking for a cigar. It had only taken Jubilee over a month to follow his advice. Not long at all. He whisked the cigar out and pointed it at Rogue.

"An' congratulations t'you too. Frost was so _delighted_ ," the irony heavy type of delighted, "she just had ta share yer news."

The sudden anger flashing in Rogue's eyes had him somewhat taken aback. He was pretty sure Frost had said Rogue was happy about the accident. No irony there.

"Get out, Logan. And Ah mean it!"

"Smoke alert," Jubilee winked and he finally got what that withering glare was all about.

"I wasn't gonna smoke _here_ ," he grunted at Rogue.

"Ah don't care where ya think ya're gonna smoke. Just keep in mind Ah don't wanna not even _smell_ anythin' tabacco related anywhere near me or my baby. Second hand smoke is a serious health hazard."

Jubilee laughed. "Our dear Cajun has already been warned he's got exactly seven months and three weeks to quit smoking or he'll be looking at his kid through photos."

Logan hadn't expected that. Rogue had actually demanded Gambit to quit smoking? She'd gone nuts!

"And you can bet," she pointed at the windows, "that he went straight out and started working on getting rid of all his cigarettes."

Logan got up and stole a glimpse of the Cajun outside. He was smoking allright.

"Don't be mean, Jubes," Rogue snapped. "Remy's committed ta bein' a good father. If he decides ta quit, it ain't 'cause of what Ah did or didn't say; it's 'cause he knows damn well he can't smoke round me or the baby. He is as determined as me ta put his child's well-bein' first."

Logan frowned and glanced at Rogue. Frost had given him the impression Gambit was probably the least thrilled person in the whole situation. Something didn't quite add up.

"Does that mean you're going to give up the teaching course and focus on the… uh… on the pregnancy?"

Rogue laughed back into a good mood. "Don't be silly, Jubes! 'Course Ah'm gonna finish my course."

"I'm gonna head out fer a smoke, then," he said and hurried out.

* * *

Gambit looked like someone had told him he had three months to live. Or was it seven months?

"Hey, Gumbo. Congratulations." If eyes could kill, not even Logan's healing factor could have saved him. "Or my condolences. Take yer pick."

The guy turned his back on him and wandered to and fro. Logan suppressed a grin and leaned on the wall. His heightened senses allowed him to hear the women's conversation and Logan got the impression Gambit didn't need to hear it. Deep down, he knew what was going on inside Rogue's head. He knew she'd gone dangerously nuts.

"Wait! Gambit _agreed_ to be stuck in the Academy for three years?"

Logan couldn't help turning his head to hear the answer better.

"It ain't 'bout agreein' or disagreein'," Rogue explained. "He will wanna be close ta his child, Jubes, and Ah will be in the Academy till the child can go t' the kindergarten…"

A few feet away, Gambit stopped walking and looked at him.

"… but Ah probably won't come back to X-duty till the child has gone ta primary school. 'Course we will always be based on the Academy and… Ah don't know, Jubes! There's so much ta think about and… All Ah _am_ sure of is that Remy will stand by me every step o' the way. Ah ain't got the tiniest doubt 'bout it."

Logan suppressed a dark chuckle at Rogue's pregnancy induced insanity and met Gambit's somber gaze.

"Ya got yerself royally fucked, didn't ya, LeBeau?"

"Casse-toi!"

Logan grinned as he watched LeBeau walk away. He didn't need to know the language to know he'd been told to fuck off. It was the only answer Logan would ever expect from anyone in those shoes. Inside, Rogue was talking about Gambit going off to New Orleans to ensure that no guild would later show an interest in the child. Right. Logan was willing to bet five grand as LeBeau wouldn't be seen anytime soon once he sailed off to the Big Easy. Of course everyone who knew the Cajun would be making the same bet. Everyone except Rogue. That poor girl couldn't be more deluded.

" _Stop_ it, Jubilation! Ah don't know why ya gotta talk 'bout Remy that way. Ah know he's gonna stay months down in New Orleans, fixin' his affairs. _Ah know!_ But that don't mean nuthin', ya hear? It don't mean nuthin'! Remy is gonna do anythin' fer his child. Ev'ry sacrifice, ev'ry… it's _his_ child, ya understand? _His child_!"

Jubilee was smart to keep her mouth shut. Especially as Rogue was either crying or about to start crying, if that sniffing he could barely make out was any indication.

"Ya don't understand! None o' ya do. Ya don't understand what it's like ta be a parent. Remy _is_ gonna come back. And if you and all of our so-called friends can't see it, then… then ya can all go ta hell an' stay there 'cause we don't need ya doubts an' fears ruinin' our lives. We're fine without ya all, Remy an' I. An' our child. We don't need ya fer nuthin'."

A door banged and Jubilee grumbled a 'geez, no need to blow things out of proportion'. Logan took a long drag of his cigar and savoured its flavour. Seven months to go, huh? Next February, then. Either Rogue's blind faith got thoroughly destroyed or Logan was in for a financial loss. Let's see, five or ten grand? Ah, what the heck! Ten grand. Now he only needed to find out who was handling the betting pool.

* * *

If you've enjoyed the chapter, please leave a review. Just let me know what you liked and disliked so I can keep improving my writing skills. Thank you.


	29. Do as I say, not as I did

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters except my characters. Which are quite a few this time around. Let's try it this way: I don't own any Marvel characters that happen to show up in the upcoming chapters and which I'm sure you'll recognise without any need to name long lists.

* * *

 **29\. Do as I say, not as I did**

Scott Summers felt uneasy as he walked through the thick eerie fog, turned greenish, golden and reddish by the millions of Christmas lights swarming trees and buildings in every street. The temperature didn't help either. He was a northern-guy; his natural environment being somewhere between New York's 40º latitude and Anchorage's 61º. Christmas is cold, in that range, even if not uniformly white; and fog does not erase your surroundings when the temperature is in the 60s.

New Orleans couldn't have felt wronger to Scott's senses, and he made a mental note never to celebrate Christmas this south. Mardi Gras? Sure. Christmas? Give him snow and the appropriate 30s that were gracing the Massachusetts Academy at the moment.

He glanced at the slip of paper with the address and walked down the blurred street. Bourdeaux Blues. That was the place. Appropriate name for Gambit's current abode too. He entered the bar and wasn't surprised that the outside's warm, colour stained fog was replaced by warmer, dark stained fog. There weren't many people around, probably due to the early hour of the evening – it was barely eight – so he quickly spotted his target. Especially because the Cajun he was looking for had spotted him the moment he had taken a step in and had gotten up immediately.

For a moment, Scott was afraid the guy was going to leave and force him to give chase, but no, Gambit walked somberly towards him.

"Whatchya doin' here, homme? Get out. I'm expectin' company."

"Yeah," he retorted. "Me."

Gambit frowned, taking a minute to understand the obvious: Scott had asked the guild about his whereabouts.

"I told them I had a job for you. X-Men business." The Cajun was not a happy camper, not for a long shot. "Come on, let's go somewhere else. I can't talk in a place like this."

Outside was not much better but…

"Is there a place in this town that doesn't feel like Summer," he asked as Gambit sullenly joined him outside.

"Summer?" The man sneered. "Ya call _this_ Summer?"

"Get rid of the fog, and it's a perfect Alaskan summer."

Gambit breathed out a half-laugh, mirthless. Then he headed into an alley next to the Blue Bourdeax. An unhealthy-looking staircase took them to the upper floors of the Bourdeaux building and Gambit welcomed him into his house. If you could call it a house: a smelly hall cramped with an armchair and a TV, two doors on different walls which probably led into a kitchen and a bedroom. From the smell, Scott guessed the last time the place had been cleaned: about five months ago, when the Cajun had first moved in.

Scott took a bottle of whiskey from his coat. "You got glasses in this joint?"

Or a second chair, by the way.

Gambit shrugged and went through one of the doors. The kitchen, Scott confirmed as he came closer. It felt more like a closet: a sink, a mini-stove, a wall-mounted mini-table, a stool. As Gambit washed a glass, probably the only one in the rat hole, Scott got the stool and took it back to the hall.

"So," the Cajun sat on the armchair and handed him the glass. "What's dis all about?"

Scott sat on the uncomfortable stool, then filled the glass to the brim and handed the bottle to the guy. He might need some incentive to bare what he had come to bare, but the other man needed all the Irish courage he could get his hands on.

A phone rang, the beep-beep signalling a message, and sending a deeper shadow of annoyance over Gambit's face. Scott guessed it was probably the guild with another job for the thief who, instead of being outside, either drinking or thieving his worries into the back of his mind, was stuck with the threat of finally facing his problems.

"You know," probably not the best starter, but it needed saying. "Anna believes you're out here severing your ties to the guild."

"She believes whatever she wants ta believe. What do _you_ want?"

Right. He took a sip from the glass. "I want to tell you something."

"Maybe Remy don' wanna hear it."

Then why had he allowed the conversation into his house? Nope. The guy knew he had to face the mess and, deep down, was probably relieved someone had come to force him to do it.

"The story of my life."

That threw him off, enough so that he sat down on the armchair. Good. Scott took another sip. A longer one.

"I didn't know what I was doing when I first got married," he started. "I thought I was in love with Maddie… You know about Maddie, right? My first wife? The one that… The woman that Essex cloned from Jean and then manipulated into my life when we all thought Jean had died as the Dark Phoenix. You've heard about her, right?"

"Why're ya tellin' me 'bout yer wives? Remy ain't married an'…"

" _Shut up_!" Scott took a deep breath to calm down. "Just shut up and listen. Do you know about her or not?"

"Yeah, I heard 'bout her."

"Good." Another sip. "Listen. I thought I was in love and I… you got to remember that I had just lost the woman I truly loved and Maddie… she looked so, _so_ much like Jean and… Anyway, when I fell for Maddie, I didn't want to lose her too, so I married her. And I was happy, you know. When it was all happening and… I was really happy about it. But then there were all these things that I was expected to do and all these things that I was supposed to forget. Like being an X-Man. Everyone was all, 'now you have to think about your family', 'they're first', 'you can't carry on fighting for the mutant cause', you know, all that."

Gambit nodded and took a sip himself, sat back.

"Anyway, that's when things started to go wrong. I was cooped up in Alaska, Maddie going to work everyday and me… doing nothing. I mean, there's really only one job for me, you know: fighting for the mutant cause. Fighting assholes, protecting innocents. _That_ is what I do. That's _me_. It felt like a prison, you know? And I just couldn't stop wondering 'why?'. Why can't I keep on being an X-Men? Sure, we'd have to leave Alaska and go back to New York but, if I had made that sacrifice, dropping everything to go to Alaska, why couldn't Maddie to it too? If she wanted to keep on working, she could always get a job in New York, right? Or she could help the X-Men with stuff that don't need fighting. There were so many possibilities! But no one, _no one_ , understood that. Everyone just said 'drop it', 'go away', 'give up who you are'. Maddie wants you cooped up in Alaska, so stay cooped up in Alaska."

Scott breathed out, took a gulp that burnt down the throat.

"Then Maddie got pregnant." He looked at Gambit and grinned. "I was crazy happy. Really, you have no idea. I was scared to death too, but I was happy. Over the moon!"

"Mais, Remy, _he_ never wanted _no_ children."

The interruption riled him up: "Bulshit! If you _really_ didn't want children, any children, not now not ever, why didn't you make sure you couldn't have them, huh? Got yourself a vasectomy. That would have put an end to any type of risk, wouldn't it? But you didn't! You know why? Because deep down, you _do_ want children! Now shut up! _Shut up_!"

The man was staring at him with a strange expression but Scott couldn't care less about whether he was about to cry or to go berserk or to freaking hell. He took one, two, three gulps, one running into the next. He breathed out and back onto that particular nightmare of his past.

"As I was saying." What was he saying? Ah, right. "I was cooped up in Alaska. But then I had to go back to the X-Men to help out with the professor and… well, stuff in general, no need to go into details. The thing is, I came back and picked up where I had left: leading the group. It was all fine at first, then Maddie started chewing my ears about going back home. To Alaska. Thing is, I _was_ home. The X-Men was my home – _is_ my home – so I was home. I told her sure, when things calm down. But she was pregnant and she couldn't fly – she was a pilot, you see, her job was flying. The point is, there was no hurry about going back and I figured that, when the baby was born, everything would just naturally fall into place: me as the leader of the X-Men and she as my wife and our son's mother. She wouldn't go back to work while he was a baby, right? So it was the same sacrifice I had made and now I didn't even have to do anything because it would simply happen naturally."

Scott took another gulp and breathed out. He could see her face when the X-Men had returned to find her with the baby in her arms. He had felt guilty that she'd gone through it all alone, he'd felt robbed too; robbed of the opportunity to witness his son's birth. Still, those were the sacrifices of his way of life and he was willing to suffer through them.

"But no one understood." He now believed no one really understands unless they go through the same hell. Or similar. "I was forced back to Alaska."

Because it's more important to be true to your marital vows than to who you are. Jean… He had been able to be true both to his marital vows and to himself with Jean. She was a part of the fight after all. Unlike Maddie. He had gone into that first knot so young, so blind.

Gambit held out the bottle and Scott allowed him to refill his glass.

"What I'm trying to say here is…" perhaps he had bled enough. "I understand what it is like to be trapped in this 'family' thing. I know what it is like when everyone tells you 'this is the right thing' but it feels all wrong to you. I _know_ , LeBeau."

"T'is different," the man said quietly, taking a sip himself.

"Of course it's different! I was happy about the pregnancy, you weren't; I know. But the trap, the people pushing you one way when it's obviously the wrong way… _that_ is the same."

Only he hadn't bled enough; no bleeding would ever be enough where this part of his life was concerned. He gulped another portion of his drink and wondered if he shouldn't have brought two bottles instead.

"Anyway, I went back to Alaska. I did my best. I swear I did. A baby is not easy, you know? A recent mother festering over something is far, far worse. The baby cried during the night, during the day… and every single day, all day long, all night long, there was Maddie: busy with the baby, missing her job, snapping at every turn… I did do my best."

But had he? Speaking in the utmost honesty, had he really? Because a recent father festering over something is probably not any easier on anyone either, and can he even honestly claim to be able to do his best in those conditions?

"I don't want to put the blame on Maddie. It wasn't her fault. I was the one who promised her something that… it turned out I couldn't give."

Gambit nodded his understanding and Scott couldn't help himself.

"You got the better end on that account. You didn't promise Anna Marie anything."

The Cajun frowned at the bottle and gulped a good portion of it. Scott pushed further in.

"You have no idea how easy you have it, LeBeau. She blasts _anyone_ who dares say a word against you. You and her, you were both caught unaware, she says. She dealt with the surprise her way; you're dealing with it your way. And no one, absolutely no one, has any right whatsoever to criticise you."

"She got no idea," the man grumbled grimly.

Scott waved a hand dismissively. "And she'll keep on having no idea. It's all for the better, that way."

For as long as the man faced his responsibilities, it made no difference whether Anna Marie believed the change had taken a month or a year.

"Listen, LeBeau: I know you're in a tight spot. If this was just about Anna Marie, I wouldn't bother; but you've got your kids to think about." There was something in the way the man sat up straight that had him take a pause. "You know she's expecting twins, right? She said she had told you."

"Twins?" He gaped. " _Twins_?"

Damn, he was sure Anna Marie had said she'd…

"Didn't she tell you?"

"Non… I…" Gambit groaned and covered his face with his hands. "She was sendin' me messages on de phone, ev'ry day, ev'ry week… sayin' 'no pressure', 'take yer time', 'no worry'. An' den she wanted me t'pick names an'… ev'ry damn week, once, twice… I stopped readin' 'em messages."

No pressure, right. Women have a great way of not adding pressure.

"Yeah, I know what you mean. Anyway, it's twins. A boy and a girl." The guy groaned into his hands and Scott felt bad for him. "Should have brought another bottle, huh?"

Gambit got up with a grunt and opened the other door, letting Scott take a long look at the messy bed and the trash bin filled with bottles. When he came back, he had another bottle in his hand which he put on the floor between the armchair and the stool.

He sat down and sighed.

"I don' know what t'do," he mumbled. "I can't… I just can't…"

Can't even think about it, from the looks of it. Scott finished his drink and put a hand on his shoulder.

"You two aren't married," he reminded the Cajun. "And I don't think she's got any illusions of that ever happening. She can't force you – no one can – to settle down in the place of her choice. Not the way Maddie and everyone else did with me. You're free to come and go when you wish. I know she goes on and on about you staying at the Academy as head of security and all that but let's be serious. You don't have to do it. You can just… join the X-Ops! Sam and Bishop could use your thiefing touch, you know? You'd come and go, free as a bird."

Gambit looked up. If the guy had normal eyes, they'd be reddish from holding back tears or something.

"Ya don't understand."

Ah, but he did. "Tell me, then. What don't I understand?"

"Remy… he can't be a fader." He knew that wound all too well. "How de hell can _I_ be a fader, homme? _How_? They's all better off widout me!"

Been there, done that.

"Look, LeBeau, I'm an orphan. You think I knew what it was like to be a father? You think I wasn't terrified of messing it all up? Hell, the only thing I even remember about my father was him throwing me off a plane. To safety," he added suddenly. "The plane was on fire. It was going to crash and there was only one parachute. Anyway, there are only two things to keep in mind when you're a father: one, you protect your children; two, you sacrifice yourself for their lives. It's as simple as that."

From the guy's face, it sounded everything but simple. Perhaps he should paint the thing the other way around.

"Do you know what you _can't_ do when you're a father? No matter what?"

Scott opened the other bottle and poured himself some more, took one long burning gulp. Then he breathed out to force himself onwards.

"Don't do what I did. You're going to regret it for the rest of your life. It will kill you with guilt."

That got his attention. "Dis 'bout Cable? 'Bout ya sendin' 'im t'de future?"

Scott found himself laughing, a hollow laugh.

"No, that's the sacrifice part. You know, the part where you give up your son to save him because… because keeping him with you would be his death. Sacrifice. No, that's not what I'm talking about."

Another gulp.

"What I'm talking about is…" He remembered that night. Warren's voice on the phone. Maddie telling him that if he left… He breathed in, breathed out, took another gulp. If you leave, her words echoing in his head even now. "Jean. Jean didn't die as the Dark Phoenix because she wasn't the Dark Phoenix and the Fantastic Four found her… the cocoon where the Phoenix had sealed Jean, to regenerate… the Fantastic Four found Jean. The woman I truly loved."

He downed the glass suddenly and didn't refill it. If he kept drinking he wouldn't be able to do what he had come here to do.

"When I saw Jean again, I knew that I didn't really love Maddie. Well, I loved her in a way but not, _never_ , the way I loved Jean. Or even the way I love Emma. I was devastated. I couldn't… I didn't know how to tell Maddie about my mistake; I didn't know how to tell Jean… So I didn't. I did what you're doing: I lived the moment and forced myself to avoid thinking about either past or future. Because the past was the mistake I had done when I married Maddie, and the future was… was how the hell to fix the mistake. And I didn't know. I was terrified to mess things up even more so I… tried not to think about it."

Scott looked at the glass in his hand and felt like filling it up, so he set it down on the floor instead, to avoid temptation.

"Let me tell you, the longer it takes to fix a mistake, the more difficult it is. Anyway, what I'm trying to explain to you is that… when I left Maddie to go to Jean, I basically…" He breathed out, shook his head, cracked his knuckles. "I basically abandoned my son."

He glanced at the bottle before moving on, but that old pain was eating him inside once more… It's as if time really does nothing, isn't it? It's all fine if you don't think about it, but once you do, it's as fresh as on day one. He breathed out, sniffed his head back into the task at hand.

"You are in a tough spot. You probably think yours is tougher than mine but… mine was thirteen years ago and I've been through enough to know that mine was tougher. I walked out on my son, LeBeau. I actually…" Scott hesitated. He had never admitted this to anyone; had tried very hard not to admit it even to himself. "I actually wished he hadn't been born. I know you have spent this five months wishing your unborn children didn't exist, and I'm pretty sure you know that's a shitty, fucked up thing to wish. But one thing is to wish your unborn son never to be born; worse, much much worse, is to wish your born son, the one you held, and loved, and… to wish he hadn't been born? That's beyond words! But the idea was in my head. How much easier if he didn't exist! I could divorce Maddie, get back to Jean and… maybe Jean wouldn't even have to find out about it! That was how fucked up I was at the time."

Ah, forget it! Scott got the bottle and took two long gulps.

"Look, so far, all you've done is get away from the heat. You got yourself five months of denial. Fine. You haven't really walked out on Anna because she expected you to go away to fix your head. Maybe she hoped it would take less time, but she knew you were going to take a walk. No harm done. _So far_."

He glared at LeBeau, hoping against hope to get this very simple idea through that thick, freaked out skull of his. Because if he was down here, in a hot soup of a winter, stabbing knives into himself, the least that moron could do was take it to heart and shape up.

"If you are not there when your children are born, LeBeau, _that_ is walking out on them. And that has no excuse, no forgiveness. You cannot abandon your children, you understand? Whatever you do, all the fucking up you have ever done in your life, that is nothing compared to this. You _cannot_ abandon your children. And I'm not saying this because of Anna Marie or because of me or anyone else; I'm saying this because _you_ won't forgive yourself if you're not there for them."

The guy didn't say anything, just looked at him with a lost, guilt stricken expression.

"Come and go as you wish; nothing is holding you down to a place. But be there for them. That's all I'm saying."

Scott took one last gulp. He probably wasn't in the best shape to drive or pilot anything. Getting up from the stool, his head swam lightly and he was pretty sure he shouldn't be handling any type of machinery any time soon.

"Right, let's go."

"Go where?"

Scott looked down at the guy and sneered. "I contacted the guild because I had a job for you to do, remember?"

He hadn't expected to hear that and Scott laughed. Wait until he heard what the job was.

"Get a shower and a shave, LeBeau. Nothing short of your best charming self is going to work for _this_ one." And he laughed again, which caused him to miss the handle of the door by a tenth of an inch. "I'll be waiting for you downstairs."

A bit of cold air would help put his head back in place. When he opened the door to the outer staircase though, the warmth of the foggy night hit him and he remembered that nope, he wouldn't be cooling his head out here, he wouldn't. Oh, well, he'd wait outside anyway. At least there was a bit of colour. And dripping humidity. He leaned against a wall and closed his eyes. They burnt a bit – that's too much alcohol for you.

Maddie. She had become the Goblin Queen because of him. Because of his cowardly behaviour. If only he had been honest, maybe she'd have… a normal life, of sorts. Maybe she'd have given him hell for some time, before accepting the inevitable divorce. Maybe Nathan would never have caught the techno virus. Maybe Maddie would have had the chance to raise him. If he hadn't been sent to the future, Nathan would now be thirteen, a month shy of turning fourteen. If only he had had the courage of facing both women and fixing his own mess. If only…

If he could help Gambit not make the same mistakes he had… would that atone for at least a bit of his guilt? Even if only a tenth of an inch.

He sniffed. His eyes were getting watery because of the burning sensation and he ended up opening them, blinking several times before finding himself gazing mindlessly at the effects of the colourful lights on the thickness of the fog.

"Remy's ready," Scott jumped to his feet.

"That was quick," he mumbled. "Let's get a taxi to the jet."

Gambit stopped though. "Where's dis job ya talkin' 'bout?"

He must be suspecting.

"She's spent five months protecting your hide," he explained. "The least you can do is say 'hi' during the Christmas season. I mean, she's on your side and all that, but you don't want to stretch your luck, do you? You don't want her to go from wanting you to be happy to wanting to skin you alive."

He scoffed. "And ya think she'll want me round once 'em babies are born? One look at 'em, an' Remy, he either wants t'be tied t'her side fer good or he'll be kicked out o'her life. Period."

So that was what he was griping with?

"You're an asshole. Now let's get a taxi. I'll make sure she, and everyone else too, they all think you went in of your own volition. She's been getting all this swollen feet thing and nausea and all that pregnant stuff and, with all the heat she's been trying to keep off your back, the least I can do is make sure she's not disappointed during Christmas."

"Wait," the man grabbed his arm urgently. "Ya mean she's not ok?"

"Huh? 'Course she's ok."

"But ya just said she's sick!"

Scott rolled his eyes which, thankfully, had stopped burning.

" _Normal_ pregnant stuff. It isn't the sea of roses books and stuff make it sound, you know. There's the peeing all the time, and the heartburn, and the… oh, when the kids get in a bad position and kick and it kind of hurts, and the back pains, and the no sleeping position, the swollen feet, the heartburn, the… I don't know, all that pregnant stuff."

"So she _ain't_ ok."

The drink had obviously messed up his ability to understand basic English.

"Gambit! Anna Marie – is – _fine_. Ok?" At least as fine as a woman expecting twins could be. "Now let's go."

Scott had made it to the main street when he realised Gambit wasn't following him. He looked back at the alley and there the man was, frowning (at least from the distance and through the fog it looked like he was frowning) at his feet.

"Hey! Let's get a move on, you hear? Or do I have to get a team together to come down here and drag your sorry ass up to Massachusetts? 'Cause I can do that. I can fill two jets with all the people dying to beat some sense into that thick skull of yours."

"Ya're drunk," he said quietly. "We drank nearly two bottles o' whiskey up there."

He's trying to delay meeting her, Scott knew. But he was also under the impression he shouldn't be handling any machinery any time soon.

"Then we leave tomorrow morning. First thing."

Gambit nodded, somberly.

He's going to try and run off.

"I swear, LeBeau, you make me put together a team to hunt you down and Anna Marie will be the least of your worries. You understand what I'm saying?"

Gambit turned his back and slowly made his way up. Well, at least the armchair had seemed like a comfortable place to sleep the alcohol off.

* * *

I'm not good with manly 'heart-to-heart' dialogues so this chapter was not easy to write. On the other hand, I'm rather proud of how it turned out. This is precisely why **I am hereby asking anyone who reads this particular chapter to give me some feedback**. Being happy with one's progress doesn't mean the end result is excelent. Or even just good.

So here are my doubts: **Is the dialogue natural enough for two men?** **If not, please point out where I failed.** This is a weak point that I'm determined to fix but I cannot do it without your feedback.

Thank you for your help.


	30. Fears

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters except my characters. Which are quite a few this time around. Let's try it this way: I don't own any Marvel characters that happen to show up in the upcoming chapters and which I'm sure you'll recognise without any need to name long lists.

* * *

 **30\. Fears**

The winter sun shone feebly outside, peeking momentarily through the thick clouds, showing itself before turning away for a cold Christmas Eve. Anna Marie felt drained as she sank into the pillows and cushions on her bed, pulling a light blanket over her legs and belly. Kitty, Jenny and Sofía were cooing over the most recent baby clothes, with Sooraya and Jubilee by their side, if quieter.

Anna had already filled the baby-room with all the things from her serial baby-showers. It felt like she had one every time the girls organised themselves to come and visit. Christmas was bound to be the straw that broke the camel's back though: upon her friends' arrival an hour ago, she had received a deluge of little socks and booties, adorable bibs, ribbons and bows, woollen caps… and she knew, without a doubt, that once the presents were all open, she'd need to get herself another room just to store all the things.

Emma had peeped in an hour ago too, but the moment she'd spotted the pile of baby things, she'd quickly said hello and left. Guess impromptu baby showers weren't her thing. Anna closed her eyes, Sooraya's voice echoing in her mind.

"It is a miracle," she had said a few minutes (tens of minutes maybe) ago.

They were on their third year of medical school, Sofía and Laura, and were now doing rotations. Just a couple of weeks before, they had witnessed their first birth.

"A miracle," the word echoed. "Miracle."

One of the babies kicked her on the side, making her hold her breath for a second, but then she relaxed again. So peaceful, despite the distant prattle of her friends.

"Miracle."

No complications, Sooraya had told Anna. A birth as it is meant to be for every woman. The most miraculous event in our lives. Anna Marie smiled involuntarily, trying to imagine Laura assisting the birth. She'd been particularly impressed. Stunned, Sooraya had said, awed by the power of Allah which touches every pregnant woman and stands by her side till the birth.

Anna could not imagine Laura stunned. Standing by the window, by the wall. Standing in her doctor scrubs. Laura would be a fine surgeon, Sooraya had said too. _That_ Anna could see. Her cold stoicism would not be shaken by anything, as she slid her claws out, sharper than any scalpel. As she reached for her victim… no, patient. She was a doctor now, would be. As she cut open to save rather than kill. Yes, Anna could definitely see that. Right in front of her.

And all of a sudden, Laura looked up at her. Her scrubs dripping blood.

"Your time…" she said. Detached. Dispassionate. The usual. "…is up."

There were two nurses by her side, Anna realised. Holding babies. Her heart started and she looked down at her belly: huge and round and… oh. She was wearing a hospital gown.

"Time," Laura's icy voice; a snikt sound.

The nurses gave her her hungry babies. She wasn't wearing anything now, only a sheet covering her lower body, and she was afraid for a moment. Skin to skin? Are you sure? But the nurses could not care for fears, for cautions, for life and death.

"is"

She saw them so vividly, her two children. Her little bodies warm and rosy. So perfect. Truly a miracle. The greatest of miracles. Smiling and chubby. A shot of pleasure flooded her body and she gasped. Hungry and defenceless. It was a pleasure as she had never felt before… or had she? Vulnerable. Feeling their little mouths suckling eagerly, she was almost sure she had nursed the little ones before. Helpless. Maybe the night before? Trusting. Because they'd been born…

"up."

And up she looked, the babies sending waves of pleasure through her body. Laura was still there. Cold fear in her arms. Snikt, snikt: claws out and in. A single heart to be felt. Looking intently.

"up"

Dispassionately.

"No!"

A single heart. The cold in her arms.

"No, don't!"

Too late. Too late, too late, too late, too…

"No, no, _no_!"

Because she should have felt it! Just as she felt the pleasure of life going from her to them, she should have felt the dread as their lives were sucked into her! And she flung them away from her, away from danger – how could she even protect them from danger when _she_ was the danger they needed protection from! She flung them away, away, away… but oh so late… The babies fell onto the bed like heavy dolls. So late…

"… _up_!"

Anna opened her eyes with a frightened gasp and stared into Laura's cold green ones.

"Breathe," she said cooly. "Calm down."

Such a commanding voice. Anna took a few deep breaths, a hand rubbing her belly, her eyes still seeing the dried up children, her arms still feeling them, warm, cold. She sniffed, holding back the sudden urge to cry. Such vivid dreams she was having these days! God! And that horrified yell – No! No! – it still echoed in her ears. God…

"Relax," Anna nodded at the order. Despite the good intentions, it wasn't the least comforting, the young woman's voice. "Do you need anything? A drink?"

There was a sudden silence in the room. Anna hadn't been listening to the prattle, hadn't even been aware of it just then, but she knew immediately that her friends had become silent and she looked up. She looked up even as he spoke, warm and comforting.

"Chére."

Remy! Her voice got stuck in her dry throat and her eyes became flooded. Oh, Remy! But all she could do was smile, smile, smile! She knew he'd come. She knew. If she didn't force him, if she gave him space, time, freedom. And there he was.

She tried to say 'hi', her mind speechless, but coughed instead. He looked so uncomfortable, standing by her bedroom's door. Laura offered her a glass of water. Anna always kept a glass of water around for sipping if she felt thirsty while in bed. She already got up so often to pee during the night, she was definitely not getting up for drinking water on top of it.

Someone was saying they were probably needed downstairs to prepare the Christmas Eve supper and Anna, having sipped enough water to moisten her throat, motioned for Remy to come closer. She didn't want her friends slithering past him, rebuking and condemning him with loaded glares.

He approached just in time to ignore the women. Laura was the last one out, closing the door with a solemn click.

Anna reached out a hand and he hesitated before taking it. It occurred to her the hesitation might be because he felt guilty, needing so much time to adjust to their children. But she knew, she knew he wouldn't fully walk into parenthood until he saw his children in front of him. No one else seemed to understand that – even _he_ didn't seem to grasp it – but she knew. She was well aware of all his personal ghosts, after all.

"How ya feelin'?" He said, tense, his eyes hovering around her belly.

"A bit tired," she said. "But ok."

She had long decided that he wouldn't be ready to listen about heartburn, swollen feet, under-pressure bladders and other such little woes.

"Bien… c'est bon."

In a sudden whim, she threw the blanket away with a 'come, feel' and pulled her sweaters up, then pressed his hand gently onto her belly. They'd been active all day, kicking and elbowing. She felt Remy stiffen and then stand still. Such nervousness! He'd need a distraction…

"So… have ya thought 'bout names then?"

The way he avoided her glance made her think he hadn't and she felt a sudden pang of aggravation. She was doing all she could to give him time to make peace with the situation and get ready to become a father, and he hadn't even thought about names? Even though she'd sent him a dozen messages asking him to do so over the last months?

"Belle?"

He whispered hoarsely. Anna mellowed. Maybe he was just worried she wouldn't like his choices. Maybe he was just feeling guilty about not being by her side and felt that he didn't deserve to choose the names. Yes, maybe.

"Beau?"

She laughed. Well, if those were his choices, maybe he had good reason to be ashamed.

"Belle an' Beau LeBeau? Serious, Remy?"

He frowned and looked away, his hand rigidly on her belly.

"It mean 'beautiful', de names," he grumbled. "Beautiful like deir maman."

That melted her almost to tears and she had to sniff, which alarmed him.

"No, no… It's sweet," she said to reassure him. "Thanks."

But surely he had considered other names, right?

"Any more suggestions?"

"…"

He hadn't. Damn the…

"Marie."

"What?"

He glanced at her, hesitating. "Anoder idea: Marie."

Oh, she got it. "Ya mean, name the girl after me?"

He nodded and looked away. Still so tense…

"Then the boy can be Remy… or Etienne. After you."

She hadn't expected him to react so strongly, with such a definitive 'non'. Just then, one of the babies stretched their legs up, feet firmly against their mummy, and Remy nearly jumped two feet back.

Anna could see the shock on his face as he gawked at the lump moving a couple of inches down her belly.

"They do that," she grinned reassuringly, massaging the area. "With two in here, they don't have much space, ya know."

"Bien sur," he rasped, recovering his self-control and even attempting a grin. "Bien sur."

"Well, then, Marie fer the girl," Anna continued. "And fer the boy?"

He shrugged. "Remy, he choose de girl; ya choose de boy. Fair, non?"

That had been it. He felt guilty about imposing a name when he wasn't participating in anything. The silly man! Good thing she had been going through a book of baby names in the mean time. Not that she hadn't trusted him to choose good names, or that she had for one moment doubted he'd choose a name at all.

"OK…" She'd head off with the first in her list. "Christopher."

She had picked it because Saint Christopher was the saint of the thieves. Besides that, it can easily be shortened to Christophe, which sounds more French, or to Chris. It was the perfect choice, in her mind.

"Christopher?" He echoed, a frown of discomfort sighing swiftly through his features. "Oui, c'est bien."

His smile was a bit forced. But, between the guilt and the awkwardness, Anna really hadn't expected more than a forced smile. The true smile, happy and from deep within, would come after he had held his children for the first time. After the expression of incredulity and shock. She knew exactly how his feelings would play across his features the moment he first saw the children and then when he first picked them up… well, no, he wouldn't dare pick them up, but somebody would and then they would pass the babies to him and he would go from scared to death to won over. She knew.

"Remy will let you rest a bit now, ok?"

She nodded and watched him go, quietly.

The baby stuff was spread on one corner of the bed, radiant and hopeful. The room was peaceful, if empty. She glanced back at the closed door and replayed his shy expression, his uneasy movements, the startled face, the embarrassment. It was sweet, and she giggled. Remy LeBeau, the Bashful.

"Wait till he sees ya both," she chuckled to her belly, massaging it. "It'll be love at first sight, I promise ya. Love at first sight."

* * *

Remy glided down the stairs and towards the noise – the cheering and laughing and yelling and carolling… Dieu, he needed that as much as… He was barely off the stairway and had already swerved to the nearest door. He needed out.

And out he went, straight into the slow-motion snowing. He hated snow. He'd rather a category 5 hurricane. But anything was better than being inside, so he plowed on, away.

He had that image before him: his glowing Anna. She looked painfully beautiful even despite the… what should he call it? The belly? And he couldn't help wondering if it would all go away. Well, not _if_ ; surely she would start working out as soon as possible. Only when would that be? One month? Two, three, six? But she would, eventually, recover her old shape. That lovely waist he loved to caress. It felt so different, so… It felt… Dieu, he couldn't put it into words! And that thing pushing out under her belly and moving around like an alien. Like a truly freaking alien! He didn't want to think about it, remember that image.

And beyond it all, the fact remained that her face looked even more beautiful than usual, right now. And her smile, it was so… happy. She had never smiled that happily before, he was almost certain. No; he was absolutely certain: he had never seen her this happy. Not in Valle Soleada, not in Muir Island, not anywhere. Blissful, that's how she looked. Blissful. And why? Because of that baby. That damned baby had done what he had never been able to. Soon, once she realised she didn't need him to feel happy, she wouldn't even want him around. The moment they were out, probably. Once she had something to hold onto.

Remy leaned onto a wall and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Guessing the words she would use…

"Get the hell outta my life," she'd say. "Ferget I even exist."

Dieu…

"All ya ever do is ruin ev'rythin'!"

All he had ever wanted was to make her happy!

"Ya make me miserable," she'd spit.

Dieu! Why had this happened to him, of all people? To them? Wasn't it enough all the crap they had already lived through? Why? Why had she forgotten the blasted pills? Why hadn't he paid attention to that himself? Why…

He shut his burning eyes tight as the realisation hit him: it was his fault. _He_ was to blame. He had had the wonderful idea to use power dampeners, hadn't he? He had acted like accidents don't happen, hadn't he? So yes, this was all _his_ fault. Maybe Summers was right! If he didn't want children, maybe he should have made sure he could never pop any, no matter how accidentally it might be.

He breathed out when the pressure in his chest became too strong. He wanted to cry, he wanted to die, he wanted to…

A truck hit him from the side.

Remy pushed himself up, away from the freezing snow, and found himself on his knees, his back hurting like all hell as he took a deep breath to replace the air that had disapeared from his lungs upon the impact. What the f…

"Don't charge up walls," Cyclops's voice grumbled from behind him. "Trying to kill yourself with a blast that big won't make matters any easier."

His head snapped around in time to see the man step up to his side.

"How did it go?"

Remy shook his head and accepted Summers's hand, helping him back to his feet. Damn, the guy didn't have to use the optic blast full force. Charging up an entire wall takes time and… he looked at the one he'd been leaning onto, part of a two-storey building. Maybe he had been charging it by accident, but he could never have charged it enough to unwittingly blow it.

"LeBeau, how did it go? Did she tell you off or something?"

He shook his head and glanced back at the wall.

"So… do you feel better about the whole thing?"

Remy closed his eyes and pulled his hair back.

"She was happy."

"Obviously! You've finally dropped in."

"Non!" He glared at the man for a sec then started moving away, from him, from everything. How stupid could he be? All of them! "Anna, she was _happy_. Not 'cause o'Remy but 'cause o' de…"

He found himself back in the snow, face first. The asshole was blasting him from the back now? Well, if that was his game… He moved his hand carefully to get a set of cards.

"Quit being stupid, LeBeau. And quit feeling sorry for yourself. You had five months to face this. I can understand that you chose to delay it instead. I've been there. I know how hard it is. But you can't spend the rest of your life running away like a coward. Get over yourself. Grow up; be a man."

The cards were shining emptily in his hand.

"Those are your _children_! You have a responsibility towards them bigger than anything else."

Waning darkly in his hand.

" _Stop_ running away."

The crunching of the snow faded in the distance.

Remy looked down at the fallen cards, shivering in the snow.

* * *

Laura did not understand people. For example: her doctor skills were unparalleled, or so her teachers said; her people skills were non-existant, the same teachers claimed. It followed, in their reasoning, that she would not become a successful doctor unless she developed social skills. Now think about it: doesn't it board on the illogical, that the best doctor skills mean nothing if you have no people skills? After all, would a sick person rather deal with a block of ice (an epithet she had received from one of her teachers) who can save their life, or with a sympathetic incompetent? She'd have chosen the former. Her teachers, though, seemed to have preferred the latter.

Leaning onto a tree and watching Gambit, her resolve to ignore her teachers' illogical preference came out weakened. Understanding people's irrational attitudes is helpful when preparing traps for one's targets. Should she wish to take out Gambit, for example, creating circumstances that unhinged him would be a simple way of forcing him to lower his guard.

Unfortunately, and barring a simple exception, Laura found it both tiring and irritating, trying to make sense of irrationality. The exception, naturally, was a berserker rage. Although, if one thought about it, berserker rages are actually rather logical themselves: find what or who triggered the rage and destroy it. Simplicity itself.

She sighed. She hadn't even fully understood what unhinged the man so deeply. Rogue's pregnancy was at the root of it, naturally. Though surely it wasn't the pregnancy itself but something else that the pregnancy triggered. What was it?

Chewing on her inability to read emotional wrecks, Laura headed back to the building and to Anna's room.

The Christmas euphoria was another irrationality she'd rather avoid. She understood the historical origins of the holiday season; she understood the desire to help and understand others; she even understood the urge to give and to receive presents. But to amplify such feelings for a fortnight and then to drop them into the background? What was the point, really?

No, she'd rather keep Anna company in her quiet room. Even if the quiet was often interrupted with far worse 'baby-clothing' euphoria. She could not understand _that_. Anna's pregnancy radiated powerful pheromones that demanded alertness and protection, not mindless shopping urges.

Laura opened the door silently.

She was dozing.

It made Laura uneasy. The woman was obviously under the influence of some fear or apprehension, otherwise she wouldn't have such dreadful dreams, horror seeping thickly into the air. Laura longed to offer her protection from whatever upset her but she knew that this particular task was not hers to take. In fact, she shouldn't be the one watching over the woman's sleep at all. The children's father – Gambit – should be the one doing so. So why wasn't he? Why was he afraid?

The thought that perhaps both father and mother-to-be might fear the children themselves crossed her mind. Perhaps they feared the powers the children might come to possess. Hmm. Perhaps.

Laura sat down by the bed, attentive to Anna's breathing and heart rate. She was not deeply asleep. In fact, a cheerful altercation down below, which Anna surely had barely heard, was enough to wake her up.

Laura watched her stretch mildly, clearly not aware of her presence. She might get a scare when she sees me, she thought, but remained motionless.

She wasn't frightened, it turned out. Only gasped a surprised 'oh' before smiling a bit lazily.

"What are you doin' here, sugar?"

She didn't answer. Anna yawned and sat up.

"Ah'm serious, sugar. Ya should be down there, havin' fun."

"They do not need protection."

The simple statement caught her by surprise and she brought a protective hand to her belly.

"What makes ya think Ah need protection?"

There was a certain apprehension in her voice that Laura hadn't meant to cause. How to explain?

"I have killed pregnant women before. Babies too." Her apprehension deepened. "Both are very easy to kill, requiring almost no skill."

Anna looked at her as if frozen and Laura averted her eyes. Ashamed.

"I find that babies are the most difficult creature to kill," she explained, her voice lower than normal. "Babies, children… they are meant to be protected, not killed."

Anna still didn't say anything. Perhaps Laura should make herself more clear.

"I am here because I wish to protect you and your babies from harm."

They stayed in silence for a bit longer. Laura had explained her presence as plainly as she could and Anna… she didn't know why Anna remained silent.

Another burst of noise downstairs, loud enough for normal ears to register.

"Thank you," Laura looked up. The woman seemed to be on the verge of tears but her features were peaceful as her hands rubbed her belly protectively. "That means a lot t'me, ya know."

Laura nodded.

"Even if I am not here, by your side," she added. "I would still like to help protect the babies."

Anna laughed quietly.

"Ah'll keep that in mind, sugar." Anna smiled softly at her, and Laura allowed her to touch her head, pull a strand of hair towards her. "Ya got a sweet heart."

She didn't understand the woman's conclusion. Protecting a baby was mostly a biological imperative in her eyes. She had gone against it in order to perform her duties, in the past. Her offer of protection was really a form of atonement, as Sooraya talked about it, rather than something that came from… what is it called, the goodness of one's heart?

"Ah won't ferget this," the woman vowed quietly, a tear trickling down her face.

Laura felt uncomfortable under the woman's warm gaze.

"Can I get you something? Food, liquids?"

She shook her head as another burst of noise – something had either just fallen or been broken – reached their ears.

"Nah. Ah think Ah'm gonna enjoy the peace an' quiet o' my room a bit longer. There'll be noise enough when we go down."

Laura nodded and Anna lay back again, pulling the blanket over her before closing her eyes. Laura embraced her knees and rested her chin on her arms.

* * *

If you've enjoyed the chapter, please leave a review. Just let me know what you liked and disliked so I can keep improving my writing skills. Thank you.


	31. Happily ever after… Maybe?

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters except my characters. Which are quite a few this time around. Let's try it this way: I don't own any Marvel characters that happen to show up in the upcoming chapters and which I'm sure you'll recognise without any need to name long lists.

* * *

 **31\. Happily ever after… Maybe?**

Purity Gangs were a plague quietly expanding throughout the country, that much was a given. Unfortunately, they were well-organised and well-disciplined. Even more unfortunately, they had a die-hard optimistic view that painted a long prison sentence as a missionary mission with the opportunity of converting ruthless criminals into brand new gangs while eradicating all would-be mutant lovers.

There was only one good thing about their ideology, in Wolverine's eyes: they were willing to die for their cause. Now if only they would die more regularly…

"It's done," Gambit informed over the intercom.

Sitting next to Wolverine, Bishop checked the four screens and shook his head.

"I'm not getting any images yet."

"Ok… an' now?"

"Yeah, I got it."

Both Wolverine and Cannonball came closer to inspect the surveillance videos Gambit had just hacked and redirected.

"Give me five minutes while I create the loops," Bishop said.

Wolverine would rather be accompanying the Cajun but, being a registered vigilante, it was wiser to avoid being caught infiltrating prisons. He breathed out in boredom as Bishop quickly recorded portions of the security images and got ready to feed them back into the surveillance system.

"You're good to go," Bishop said. "But be careful. There's a security guard in the area of the administrator's office."

His presence was barely even necessary. Wolverine got a cigar and headed outside, careful not to be seen by anyone, or anything, as he leaned on the van. The prison's administrator seemed to be helping two Purity Gang members. First of all, they had been deemed low risk inmates and, secondly, their connections to gangs had been overlooked. If they were lucky, they might come across clues in the administrator's office pointing at the mastermind behind the Gangs.

He heard Cannonball leaving the van and walking around the vehicle to be at his side.

"He's entered the administrator's office," the southerner informed, getting ready to fly over to the office's window in case Gambit required an emergency departure. "He's got 'bout ten minutes till the guard stops by."

Wolverine shrugged. "The guy knows how not ta be spotted by a security guard doin' quiet rounds."

"It pays ta be prepared," the southerner grumbled and Wolverine didn't answer back.

The month before, on January 11th to be precise, SPAD director Barnaby Simmons had finally admitted the existance of the Purity Gangs and issued warnings to all the police forces that any case including these gangs were to be immediately reported. It was a step in the right direction, especially since Jubilee still hadn't been allowed to take over the effective control of her squad even though she was now 24 years old. For as long as SPAD insisted on dealing only with individual and unrelated cases instead of trying to identify and attack organised associations intent on harming mutants and former mutants, it would never become the protective entity that Jubilee had dreamed of.

Wolverine took a deep breath and chewed on that idea.

If anyone found out Jubilee had been the one behind the whole Super-Powered Affairs Department of the FBI, the girl would be in for a whole lot of cold shoulders. There were very few mutants out there that viewed SPAD with benevolent eyes and although they might accept that Jubilee and Sofía were involved as some sort of failsafe to keep the federal branch from targeting mutants unfairly, the truth was they still would rather the thing didn't exist at all.

Logan could sympathise with those fears. But he had also come to realise that SPAD couldn't care less about mutants: their target market was former mutants. In a way, that was the reason why Jubilee had been successful in creating SPAD in the first place. Once upon a time (which really meant 3 years ago, before M-Day struck), there had been millions of mutants in the country. Regular humans had almost become a minority and the number of super-powered folks had inspired a generalised panic, especially amidst the government. But now there were millions of former mutants. Nobody need fear them anymore. No one except the politicians, worried that their rivals could tap into those millions of constituents and use them as a basis to get them to power. And what did this particular group of constituents wish for most of all? Safety against persecution for what they had once been and now were no longer. Whoever could give them that (or a pretence) would reap their votes.

That was in fact why SPAD had been created.

Most X-Men would say that Jubilee should have directed her efforts into creating an X-team focused on former mutants, though. There was sense in that approach but, on the other hand, would police from all over the country contact that X-team to warn them about people in need of assistance? Would that X-team be able to pressure police all over the country into taking harassment against former mutants seriously? No. SPAD, being an official, government-sanctioned entity, had a far greater reach than any X-Team could ever hope for.

Nevertheless, there was still a long, very long way to go. Perhaps he should drop a word with all the contacts he possessed in high places. Or give them a snikt, if that was what was needed. The sooner Jubilee became the de facto leader of her squad, the better. Eventually, if all went according to the girl's plan, she would find her way into the SPAD leadership, or shoulder someone into that position, and then, _then_ SPAD could finally become a true champion of the persecuted former mutants.

But for now, it was just good that Simmons had recognised the existance of the Purity Gangs. That meant that Jubilee could officially give the X-Men information from the SPAD database concerning the gangs and it meant that whatever information the X-Men uncovered would be received by the federal department and then used to capture and sentence any identified member.

Now, if only the X-Ops, the unregistered X-Team that, being unregistered, could get away with illegal breaking and entrance, as well as investigating evidence acquired in slightly unlawful ways. If only the X-Ops could identify higher-level members of the Gangs…

Wolverine's phone rang. Jubilee.

"What?"

"Are you done with the break in?"

"Almost," he answered. "What's the sudden hurry?"

"As soon as Gambit's out of the place, get him back to the Academy. And make sure it's pronto ASAP and without delay. The twins are on the way."

Wolverine straightened up. "What? Now?"

"No, tomorrow. YES, now! Why would I be calling if it wasn't _now_."

"But wasn't it scheduled fer next week? The induction thing?"

"Forget the induction, Wolvie! It's happening: we've just gotten Anna to hospital, broken waters _everywhere_ in the car, and we've called Cecilia, she's coming over, says first time moms take time, twins usually take even more time if they aren't as fast as all hell, and the bags got forgotten so I got chosen to go back for them, only going to the Academy and back is one hour at full speed and…"

Shit, shit, shit, was all he could think.

"… so there's still time for LeBeau to be there for the birth if you don't stop for drinks and cigars, because that'd be just stupid and… look, I got to drive now so just get the guy here ASAP."

He put the phone away with an audible 'shit' and Cannonball asked what had happened. Wolverine ignored him and got back in the van. On the screen, Gambit was going through the office methodically.

"How much longer will it take?" He asked Bishop.

"He's gone over the desk, inserted the spyware on the computer, and has just started looking for secret compartments. I guess, it may take another five minutes. Why?"

"Anna's in labour."

Bishop looked at him silently.

"Wasn't she scheduled fer next week?" Cannonball asked from the door.

"Pregnancies don't give a shit 'bout schedules, boy," Wolverine grumbled. "Cecilia says it will still take a while but… we should get the Cajun back immediately."

At the door, Cannonball commented that Anna was going to kill him – and the three of them too – if Gambit arrived too late.

"Gambit," Bishop said over the intercom. "You've got less than five minutes to finish up."

"What's up?" he asked.

"Just hurry up!"

Then he turned to Wolverine and Cannonball.

"Five minutes isn't going to change anything. We're half an hour from the jet and the flight back at full speed is barely over one hour. Can we land at the hospital?"

"Ah don't think so," Cannonball said.

"So add another half an hour to drive from the Academy. That's two hours, more or less."

"Ah'll text 'em ta say we're on our way an' Gambit'll be there in two hours. It's best if Anna doesn't start askin' 'bout 'im 'fore that."

* * *

Remy LeBeau navigated the small hospital in a daze. Half his mind was happy he didn't have to actually witness the birth and the other half was stuck on a 'this is it, this is it,' mantra. He didn't as much as register everyone's congratulations… hell, he didn't even know who was part of 'everyone'. The second time he got lost on his way to Anna's room, a nurse had offered to take him there and was now knocking on the door in his stead, opening it. He couldn't think. He couldn't even…

"Remy!"

Her eyes shone with happiness. She looked tired and spent, lying against the white pillows, but happiness… Remy breathed out, unwilling to approach such bliss. She lifted a hand for him to hold but it quickly came to rest on the bed with an exhausted sigh. A hand on his back startled him and he sheepishly obeyed the nurse who pushed him towards the bed.

"Chére…"

He didn't know what else to say and, almost afraid to spoil her happiness, he put his hand gently over hers. She blinked quickly, her eyes weary and shiny, as if she were on the verge of tears and Remy quickly seized her hand, kissed it fervently. Before he knew it, he was kissing her forehead, her cheeks, her lips, her neck. She giggled weakly, joyfully, and embraced him, her fingers playing languidly with his hair. Remy didn't move, afraid to ruin the moment.

Eventually, though, his worries on the way to hospital emerged in a question.

"Ya're ok?"

She chuckled lightly and undid the embrace, leaving him sitting awkwardly on the edge of the bed.

"Ah didn't tell ya nuthin' 'cause it's normal and Ah didn't want ya ta be worried, but Ah'd been havin' Braxton Hicks contractions fer over a week, especially at night. Then this mornin'… God, it was awful! Ah had no position an' felt sick an'…" she shook her head and Remy got her hand in his. She smiled. "But then Ah had a hot soakin' in and a nice nap in the afternoon and it all went away. An' since the girls had come over ta say hi, maybe get some lunch, Ah decided we could all go out fer dinner. That's when the contractions started gettin' regular. But Ah knew it could take hours an' they weren't that very painful so Ah told everyone ta relax an' finish their dinner 'fore goin' back t'the Academy fer the bags an' go ta hospital. By the time we got t'the car, though, Ah knew we were goin' straight ta hospital, ferget the bags. An' then, just as we were gettin' there, my waters broke an' the contractions started gettin' one o' top o' the other and all Ah could think was this better not take six hours."

Remy forced a smile. He should have been there. She shouldn't have gone through all that pain alone.

"T'was all so fast! One minute the… HEY!"

Remy jumped off the bed, turning to where Anna was glaring at, and saw the nurse holding one of the babies. His heart sank.

"For the father to hold," the nurse was smiling reassuringly. Then she took a step in his direction. "Dad?"

He didn't move. He didn't even breathe.

"Meet your son," and she pushed the tiny little thing against his chest.

To say he was frightened would be a mistake. What he was feeling right there and then had no name he knew of. His arms moved, he didn't know how, and obeyed the nurse's instructions. Then he realized the nurse had moved away and the little thing was relying solely on his support. It was so… fragile. The little closed eyes, the skin, the little nose, the fingers… so tiny, so perfect, so…

"Ain't he a sight?"

He meant to nod but his muscles were so tight, so focused on holding the child gently but surely, that they were unable to multi-task.

"Lemme," she said, and he would have complied but he couldn't for the life of him figure out how to do it. Thankfully, the nurse stepped in to help.

Anna, on the other hand, held him naturally, easily. A sudden surge of resentment bit him and, when the nurse came closer with the other baby, he took a step away, rubbed his jeans, moved to the other side of the bed. He did not belong in that family picture.

"I ain't goin' back t'de Academy," he grumbled. "Ain't gonna be no head o' security."

She had never told him head on that's what she wanted, but she had talked non-stop about this opening for head of security at the Academy that was waiting for the perfect choice to ask for it. Remy didn't look her in the eye.

"I'm gonna stay on wi' de X-Ops."

She didn't say anything. He looked up to face her disappointment but his eyes got distracted by the baby in her arms, by the baby in the nurse's arms, standing by the bed, next to Anna. Hell, the damned nurse fitted the picture better than he did!

The baby in the nurse's arms moved her head, whimpered, and Remy's heart bled. This thought that, maybe, if he could scoop the baby into his arms and sit by Anna and… maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to be a part of the picture. A stupid, hopeless thought.

"I'm still gonna be livin' at de Academy," he said. Because, even if he was out of the picture, he still couldn't turn his back on it. "I ain't gonna run away."

Anna was still silent and his eyes were still on the babies. His children. Why did he feel he had no right to them? He rubbed his tingling hands on the jeans. He so wanted to… they were better off without him, his mind insisted even as Scott's voice warned him against abandoning his children.

"I ain't gonna abandon 'em."

And he wasn't. Even if they deserved better than him, even if he deserved to be kept away from them.

"Ain't gonna abandon ya."

His very soul hurt at the idea of keeping away.

"Ya just… choose a room at de Academy fer me." Let her choose how far or how near he should be, because, if he had a choice, he'd keep himself simultaneously by their side and as far away as possible.

"Ya already have a room," she said, her voice uncharacteristically quiet.

He almost said it wasn't his room, not even their room; it was hers. But he'd stabbed her enough, hadn't he?

The baby in the nurse's arms whimpered again and his insides quivered. The weight of his son, Christophe, was a ghost on his muscles and he felt a sudden urge to hold his daughter too. Marie.

Remy wetted his lips and walked around the bed, held out his arms, waiting for the nurse to once more instruct him.

She looked exactly like her brother. Bien, twins are supposed to be that way, non? His mouth twisted of its own accord into a smile and there was a stingy humidity misting over his eyes. Dieu, why couldn't he just belong there, with his children, his Anna? He so wanted to fit in.

The girl tensed up in his arms, yawned with a deep frown and stuck the tip of her little tongue out a couple of times before quieting again.

"She be like you," he whispered. "Beautiful an' feisty."

He glanced up at her, suddenly aware that he was smiling; ear to ear, even. The smile died away when he saw the silent tears rolling down Anna's cheeks, but she smiled at him.

"She's the loud one," she said. "Cried bloody murder over an' over."

"Non, ma chére," he told her. "Don't cry, I…"

" 'S normal," she sniffed, shook her head. "Hormones, mood swings... Ah'm jus' tired."

Remy swallowed, searching his brains for a way to make it all better. He even risked sitting down, despite the little girl in his arms.

"Remy, he won't go nowhere till ya're ok." That got him a sad smile and more silent tears. "De world can end, he won't leave ya or de petites fer a moment."

His only answer was a sigh and he wished he could kiss her into believing him but the babies were in the way.

"I ain't gonna go nowhere. Even when ya're ok again, even when 'em petites are older, even when ya go back ta de X-Men; Remy, he will always be there. He ain't never, _never_ leavin' ya."

"Ah know," she spoke so very quietly that he was alarmed. His Anna kicked up a riotous uproar when she was pissed at him, even if she bit it down for a while first; she didn't… she didn't take it all like this.

"Ya feelin' ok, Anna? Ya want Remy ta call a doctor?"

She shook her head.

"Ah ain't goin' back ta the X-Men."

He didn't quite understand what she meant, but she sighed and looked down at the baby boy, smiled, ran the back of her hand over the head of the baby girl.

"They need me at their side," she explained.

Oh, she meant she wasn't going back to the X-Men any time soon. She must have thought he was saying…

"I mean when dey goes ta school," because she'd talked about it, being with them full time, well, the children and the teaching; being with them until they went to school.

But she shook her heard.

"Ah ain't ever joinin' the X-Men again." She looked him straight in the eye, her face serious and her eyes burning. Now she looked like his Anna Marie, like the Rogue he had fallen for. "Rogue is dead. I'm a mamma, Remy. What if a mission takes days on a row, like they sometimes do? Ya think Ah'm gonna leave my babies wi' some nanny for a week or so? No. Worse! What if Ah get hurt on a mission? Ya think it right, riskin' the chance my babies can grow orphaned? Ah know what it's like ta live without a family, Remy. Ya think Ah'm gonna take the risk of ever lettin' that happen? Really?"

He didn't answer. Anna's eyes were turning dangerously angry when she glanced back at the baby boy in her arms and then brought him to her face, kissing him, snuggling him against her naked neck.

"Ya could join only easy missions," he suggested. The idea of Anna giving up her role in the X-Men for good… it sounded impossible. "Ya don't hav'ta go in no dangerous ones."

It was the wrong thing to say, though, the way her anger sizzled at him.

"Ya think," she hissed, "Ah'm gonna risk hurtin' 'em? Ya think Ah'm gonna be puttin' inhibitors on an' off an' risk one day my babies touchin' my skin an' be absorbed? Ya _really_ think so, Remy LeBeau?"

Wait, what was she saying?

"Ya mean…"

" _Yes_ ," she almost growled, "Ah mean Ah'm givin' up my powers."

But…

"Or ya think what? My babies are more important than powers an' missions, Remy. They _need_ me. And _Ah_ am gonna be there fer them every hour o' the day, every day, every year, every always. Ya can come an' go as ya please, as yer missions and yer guilds require an' whatever, but _Ah_ am stayin' with _my_ children, ya hear? _Always_. Not just when Ah feels like."

He blinked. He was about to say he would always be there for them too but she adjusted the baby boy on her left arm and reached an imperious hand towards the baby girl.

"Gimme Marie," she demanded. "She needs her mamma now."

He was too stunned to say or do anything. He did expect the nurse to come and take the baby, as she'd done before with the boy, but instead it was Anna who made a grimace of… pain? And snatched the girl away from him, adjusted her against her breast while falling back onto the pillows.

If eyes could kill… Remy felt himself shrivelling inside under Anna's glare.

"Ah think ya should leave now," her voice was cold as ice. "My babies an' Ah need ta get some rest an'… don't ya hav' cigars ta distribute or mission reports ta give?"

He got up and obeyed. He looked back when he got to the door. The babies were nested in her arms, one on each side, and she was kissing Marie's head. Picture perfect. And he was too painfully aware he had been right all along, that these babies were all she needed to be truly happy and that… he really didn't belong there, did he? If he stayed long enough, he would ruin it all. His role was to stand in the background, looking over their happiness, protecting it, but never really being a part of it.

The nurse wanted to return the babies to the bassinet but Anna resisted for a few minutes, before giving in. He watched the exchange, not registering the words, just allowing the understanding to sink in. Then he left and leaned against the wall, by the door. He didn't want to meet anyone just now. He slid down the wall and sat down on the floor, let his head come to rest against the wall.

This is it, his mind said one last time.

When the nurse left, she eyed him but didn't say anything. Remy LeBeau didn't particularly like the glance and watched her as she hurried down the corridor.

It hit him that, if Anna was giving up her powers for good, then she'd be more vulnerable. Not that she couldn't hold her own on a fight but… but she might need a level of protection that so far she hadn't. A sense of purpose had him back on his feet, checking the corridor left and right and looking for cameras, security guards… nothing.

He pulled out a coin and played with it, to keep his fingers busy, then leaned against the other wall, facing Anna's room.

He pushed back the senseless thought of giving up X-Ops and burying himself at the Academy. Staying around 24 / 7 was as pointless as waiting for an attack every freaking minute for the rest of one's life. No. He would have a hand in all the security measures at the Academy, but he was not going to bury himself there. And Anna… even if Anna kept on pushing him away, he'd still be there for his children. She'd see that, sooner or later. Even if he never really found a way to fit in, he'd still be around.

They were his children, and he couldn't hold back the smile at the memory of their perfet little faces. Whether he deserved them or not… even if they deserved far more… he would always be there for them. Always.

* * *

The nurse left the building unnoticed, her angry strides echoeing furiously in the silent February night.

"How could she?" was the only thought burning through her mind. "How _could_ she!"

She was so furious her eyes literally shone golden in the dark.

She stopped, her breathing fast and violent, and looked back at the building.

What did she hope to teach those children? That one gives up who one is for minor things? She was a mother, too. She knew what it's like to have high hopes and dreams for one's baby. She _knew_. But to sacrifice oneself for a baby? That was the same as to offer to erase the child's future. It wasn't a way of protecting the children, it was a way of endangering them.

Gott! She could barely constrain herself!

She took a deep breath in and slowly breathed it out. There was nothing she could do now, anyway. They were babies, had no awareness of anything, and it was definitely not wise to separate mother and child in the first year; too many drawbacks on the physical health side alone. And maybe… maybe it was just crazy talking after the labor. She also knew how it can mess up one's head. Maybe she'd think it over eventually… The question was if she meant to give those children the best up-bringing even if she did go back on that stupid decision.

Looked back at the hospital, she made up her mind. Rogue wouldn't teach them appropriately. No. She would always be too afraid of something harming the children and she'd weaken them! The solution was in her hands. Give them a year, eighteen months at the very most. They needed to be taught right, from the beginning. They needed to be made strong.

And _she_ was the right person to do it.

* * *

The end of a tale. The seed for a new adventure.

I hope you've enjoyed this story. It was a first in many ways for me and, despite some failings, I am proud of it.

I also hope the ending meets your expectations (and I apologise in advance if I failed to make it happen), even though it's clearly open for a sequel. I can tell you now _that_ particular story isn't finished yet, but it is deseigned to be the push that will bring this family together and get both Anna and Remy on a more balanced parenting regime.

Thank you to all my readers for keeping me company,

but I reserve **a big special thank you** for all of you who took a moment to drop me a line.

I loved hearing from you and I loved sharing our mutual love for fanfiction.

Thank you.


End file.
